Monday

Monday morning 6:30 AM sleeping soundly when a great shaking of the house and giant noise smacks the bedroom. The dogs jump up the cat jumps down and I pull the shades to lookout over the back 40. First I look past the plywood and notice that there is a new lake formed beyond where the pear tree use to be. Then I notice that the pear tree use to be. Then I notice that I’m looking past plywood instead of looking past my roof. The great ripping noise was the roof (over the living room- the same living room and roof that just last Summer I had completely redone and just 5 weeks and 2 days ago had the beautiful oak floor redone with a nice stain and 4 coats of poly and had to dry for 4 weeks to further clutter the house before moving the furniture and rugs back in- yes that one) had torn right off and several billion rain drops were beating the plywood like it had just French kissed their kid sister.

It seems that I have a few good mates near by because 15 minutes later Keegan and Chuck both pulled in the drive while I was stockpiling implements of coverage, plastic, strapping, nails and hammers. Keegan grabs the ladder from me and heads out back. It is, of course blowing around 40 mph and pouring like a get out. Keegan comes back to report the membrane is still attached to the roof and we can tack it back in place so we grab the necessary implements and clamber on up. About half way through restraining and replacing the roof Chuck looks up and states, “I really don’t like roofs.” That’s a good matie, eh. We covered the tears with plastic as well as the siding and corner boards that were ripped off.

Once inside we rolled up one rug with about 2369 gallons of water in it and I proceed to throw every towel and rag I own on the floor in an attempt to wick away the evil moisture. That’s when Chuck gets the call: his wifey is explaining how their living room is also filling up and come start bailing.

We were mostly finished and I’m dumping soaking towels in trash cans and wiping up stray drops. Keegan exits and then the good news: The washer repair guy is back with the new part to fix the washer. Perfect timing as I can now start spinning out the wet towels. As I’m watching him I glance out the front door and notice that my electric service has pulled off the front of the house and is lying across the yard over the wall and in the road. Now I’ve already watched this same scenario before, my low hanging wires weighted down in the Ice Storm of 98 and some clown in a big truck zips right by in a big truck taking ‘em with him. I wasn’t looking forward to another 13 days without power so I called the left hand neighbor, Marc, an electrician only to find he is bailing the basement. I left a message to call if he needed anything and instead he comes over to check out my problem (what a guy) and says best thing to do now is park my car in front of the wire so people don’t hit it and call CMP (power co.) Make’s sense so when the washer guy leaves (his van was blocking me) I get in my car to move it out to the street where Marc’s truck is saving the integrity of my lines only to find that my battery is dead.

Insert highlight of day here (see below.)

Next up was my second appointment of the morning, the architect who will help design a smaller’ more efficient’ green (see that, Green?) home for me out back. My favorite room is, in fact the living room with its exposed 250 year old beams, its high ceilings and its great expanse of glass looking out over the fields and trees – less one giant pear tree. It is lovely, but I told him I preferred to do without the water element. He made notes accordingly and then helped jump the car when he left.

While the car is running in the drive the Fire brigade (or Dept. as we say here) comes and says they have a repot of a wire down so we head to the barn to find some sawhorses to pull out it the street where Marc’s truck has been replaced by a bigass ladder truck. We make due with an ashbin full of very old dust (another story) and they even pull the wires up off the wall and yard some.

I’m still scrambling for more containers to contain the water that is now coming in three rooms so I head back to the barn. I come back with three of the kid’s plastic sleds, perfect because they catch drips from multiple points. With enough containment now I decided to get a new battery from my mechanic so I head out. Half the roads are closed already due to washouts so it takes a bit more time than expected. I pick up the usual coffee order (2 black, 1 regular) and had for the garage when I get a call that there is a problem with the roof of a building I own downtown. At least I have a car that will start now. While passing Mickey D’s I note the wind has taken their sign and folded it in two. Not sure that it meets code anymore.

Once the problem is taken care of in Portland I head back to check the LR. Upon my arrival, after going around countless downed trees and wires I come to find the power has been lost. During the Ice Storm debacle I had purchased a generator for the obvious reasons. Recently being older and wimpy I took note that many new generators have a fancyassed electric start thingy which keeps wimpy old guys from having to rip their arms off and appear, well, wimpy. So in anticipation I sold my old trusty generator and…well I thought about buying a new one. Luckily my very own brudder (one of several) had the very same idea (and he, in my defense, is 4 years younger than me) but he also has the good sense to buy the new one before getting rid of the old one and since he had not yet gotten to the step of selling the old one he said I could borry it. That was the easy part. Getting back to Freeport (near the mechanic) was quite the ordeal. The first 4 roads I took were washed out. The next was closed but I had traded the little car for my monster truck while in Portland so I wend around the barriers and through the water streaming over the road. I remain impressed how forceful just 10 inches of water can be but I forged on. At the end of my brother’s road a great huge spruce was toppled onto the eclectic wires and blocking the road with about 8 cars pulled over to the side. I just drove under it while the spruce bitch slapped the truck and drove on past dozens of downed lines. None were sparking so I figured it was ok.

It was a long way home but I found a path. I am racing, btw, the raising water in my basement. This is a game nature plays with me every time the power goes out. Power goes out every week in my neck of the woods but for only an hour or two at a time. Whenever it goes out for an extended period of time it is always accompanied by water. Wind and water, apparent, have been dating for a long time and often they don’t get along. My old farmhouse has a dirt crawlspace that I call a basement. The end with the furnace has a cement floor about 10 foot by twelve and sump pump. Said pump, which is customary, runs on electricity so when the wind and rain come together (I heard that snicker) they play see if we can get two feet of water in the basement and cover the furnace motor. In these conditions that is about 3 hours so I’m cutting it close.

This borrowed generator has a different plug than my old one so I work on changing it, brother Chris having given me a plug for such an occasion. I check the water level in the basement; 2 inches to motor, buckets and other flotsam wandering about. Good, I go and start the generator and plug it in and hit the switches and…nothing. I look at it. Still nothing. OK, call Marc again he tells me to check the cable I just did and check for proper wiring. It’s OK so he says he’s headed out so he’ll stop by. (Yea Marc!) He comes over and I pull the cord apart and He give’s it the OK so he pulls out a magic electrician’s box with little probes on it and test the plugs and both ends. They check out. He checks the generator out put. It checks out. He checks out the panel, it checks out. I take off the panel cover and he pulls at wires and jiggles things and they all seem to check out. Some things, he thinks, is shorting out. The only thing left is the receptacle for the generator plug attached to the house. We pull that open and AH-HA that is wired wrong. (Now how the hell did that get that way?) A quick rewire (solid wire is much easier than twisted wire, btw) and we plug in again, restart and…light camera action. I run through the house and look out the window and see water pouring from the discharge pipe from the basement. There is now officially more freaking water in my backyard than the Red Sea.

By the way, I don’t like sump pumps in theory. I’m happy to use the little buggers but I really don’t like the idea of an eclectic motor running down into the water. It keeps me out of the basement in wet weather.

So with towels piled high, sleds and buckets and trash cans all catching drips and the wood stove packed to the door with hard wood (there’s that snicker again) I observe a stove top dinner is in order so as to keep from straining the generator. I decide on hash browns and eggs and get out the potatoes to wash and grate them. Not here that while Weselboy and Girlface are no longer permanently living here their creatures and fauna are still here for my deft care. Included of course are Monty (the python) the rats who various names I don’t remember but I do remember no to let them play in Monty’s cage and various plants including Weaselboy’s extensive cactus collection. I’ve had one of this group sitting on the kitchen counter for some time now and have now recalled the reason I keep intending to move it. While grating the red potatoes I took my upstroke just a little too hard and looked down to see my two knuckles by my thumb resembling a pincushion... Dinner, albeit simple was quite good.

I took the opportunity after all this to relax by the fire and read while keeping an eye on overflowing water containers. It was really very nice, the dogs were curled up next to the couch which was pushed up next to the piano to clear the flood plain and the cat was curled up on my fleece on the piano.

Before bed I went out for a walk in the still driving rain to a very different perspective. Even in this relatively sparsely populated area there is normally light, street lights, a few houses, cars, stars, the moon. There was a virtual sea of darkness where normally many lights, no noise but the rain and in the distance the lone sound of my generator. All in all, worth the experience.

But, I promised the highlight of the day, other than the ending so I offer a small bit of Maine humor. When neighbor, Marc, the electrician, was graciously over to see how he could help, while standing in the from yard in the pouring rain and standing 5 inches of standing water, grabs the live power line laying across the stone wall and says, “Remember, no line is safe to touch, ev-ah.” Maine, the way life ought to be.

Night Kids.