That's Roget's entry for "wet". As in, the state of our neighborhood, our town, our county, and the surrounding three-hundred-mile radius.
Watching the news last night, we've gotten over 11 inches of rain since the heavens opened on Friday, and with very few exceptions, it hasn't stopped since. And even though it happened before, it hadn't happened in THIS apartment - yes, our basement flooded. Of course, the way we found out was quite amusing. The dryer in our basement is broken, so one of the girls in our dorm thought she'd sneak a little freeloading action and ask to use our washing machine AND dryer. Mrs. Dave saw right through it and said that if the washing machine was still working, she should use that, and THEN she could use our dryer. Outsmarted, the girl traipsed down to the basement, came up, said "Um...there's two inches of water in the basement. NOW can I use your washing machine?"
Oy.
Ah. Right you are.
Venturing into the basement
Luggage rescued from the water
Irony!
The damage. Fortunately, two of those three wet dish packs are empty.
Our sump pump, chugging away. One bucketful every ten seconds or so.
Slightly better use of the sign.
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