The Overwhelm Event
Overwhelm: Verb.
Definition: to upset, to
overthrow; to cover completely or submerge; to overcome by superior force or
numbers, or overpower in thought or feeling
Source: Merriam-Webster
Dictionary
https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/overwhelm
I
Once
upon a time, in October 2023, I had a week of vacation from work. I took that
time to sort through my belongings, purge anything I didn’t need, adding it to
my donate pile. I also went to my local store where everything costs $1.00. I
found several storage solutions to organize my space and simplify my storage
needs.While I on vacation, I took the time to catch up on some laundry. I have a new washing machine and been in the process of washing everything I own. Okay, I don’t think it was every piece of clothing I own. However, I did wash all the towels, sheets, blankets, and linens in my collection.
I was trying out the new washing machine, and a new brand of detergent. As my skin is uber sensitive, I was using the baby formula of a new detergent. To my surprise and delight, the new detergent, in the form of sheets, worked amazingly well! I had no reaction on my sensitive skin, and washing the clothes in the new machine delivered an amazing result.
One day while washing some linens, I came upon some blankets and throws I haven’t used in a long time. I decided to donate them but thought it best to wash them first. Shortly thereafter, I decided to put my large hot chocolate mugs in the dishwasher. I didn’t think anything of running the washing machine and the dishwasher at the time. I hadn’t used the dishwasher in six months or more. I only ran it to wash the hot chocolate mugs; that’s all that was in the machine. I turned the dishwasher on and went about my afternoon.
Two hours later, I went into my kitchen to fix myself some dinner. As I approached my refrigerator, my foot went SQUISH into my kitchen floor, right in front of my dishwasher. That’s not good, I thought to myself. That night before bed I shut off the water to my house and went to bed.
I lay there in bed in a state of unrest, full of anxiety. I reached out to half of my family members via text to ask them what to do. But no one was awake, it was the middle of the night. Everyone was asleep, like I should have been. However, I couldn’t sleep. I was worried, troubled, about the possible damage done to my home.
II
The next morning was a horror story. All the floors in my home buckled overnight! I knew I had a cement floor in my kitchen area. As such, I thought I had cement flooring throughout my home. I went into an absolute panic. I was sure I had cracked all my cement floors through water damage and wrecked the foundation. I was in a state of panic and began to text and call several family members again. I lay in bed tossing and turning, in a panicked state of unrest for hours.
Finally, around 9am I got an answer from my parents. At that point I was a weepy mess. I explained what happened, as best as I knew, and asked what to do next. I was urged to call another family member, who is very handy and knows what to do in such situations. I then reached out to them. It was then that I was assured that I have wooden tongue and groove floors throughout my home, and cement subfloors in my kitchen and bathrooms. The wooden floors weren’t cracked; instead, they had buckled due to the humidity in the house. I was then told to purchase a dehumidifier, and to start running it once it had acclimated to my home.
That morning was horrible; I was scared to use the restroom, as the water was turned off, for fear of damaging things even more. I had to go to a nearby fast-food restaurant to use their facilities. I couldn’t even wash my hands in my house, let alone do anything else that required water. And as I was in a panic state of being, my stomach and digestive system were giving me problems. Needless to say, I went to the nearby fast-food restaurant more than once that morning.
III
Hours later, the plumber who was to show up at 8am finally showed up at around 1pm. I explained what had happened, that I was running my dishwasher and brand-new washing machine at the same time, and that a couple hours later I had a squishy kitchen floor. The plumber then let me know that it’s not recommended to operate more than one thing that uses water at a time. A washing machine and a dishwasher both have water pumps, which need to have a proper line to dispense the water. That was the first factor in this plumbing emergency: that I had run two water devices at the same time.
Over the next few hours, the plumber worked to diagnose the problem. The first factor of the problem was that the washing machine and dishwasher were run at the same time. As the plumber checked the dishwasher, they discovered that the garbage disposal was rusted in place. The water in the dishwasher normally drains through the disposal. However, as it was rusted in place, there was nowhere for the water to go. The water filled up in the sink and consequently spilled out onto the floor. That was the second factor in this plumbing emergency: the garbage disposal was rusted in place.
While the plumber was there, I asked that they checked for the presence of water. The plumber called a water mitigation specialist out to test for moisture in the home. Contrary to what they initially believed by looking around my home, they found moisture everywhere. It was in the kitchen, bathroom, and the wall of the walk-in closet.
While the plumber was there, they called out a fellow plumber who operates a camera into the plumbing. They got that plumber in to check the pipes, all of which looked normal. Upon checking the main water line, they found a slow clog, which was the third contributing factor to the overwhelm event. The clog moved through the line as the camera passed through the pipe and exited the system normally.
Six hours later the plumbers had come to a solution to the problem: I had overwhelmed the system by running my washing machine and the dishwasher at the same time. Also, the garbage disposal was rusted in place, which no one knew. There was also a slow clog in the system, which no one knew. It all coalesced together into the perfect storm. Lesson learned for the future: only run one water device at a time.
IV
With the plumbing fixed, the next step was water mitigation, which involved undoing all the damage done by the water. This proved to be a far more involved, lengthy endeavor than I would ever know.
The next day, the damage claim was submitted to my insurance company, and thankfully approved. I had paid for the repairs in the plumbing; insurance would take over and cover all the expenses to remove, repair, and replace anything that had been damaged. To a certain dollar amount, of course.
The first step in the water mitigation process was to dry out the house. On Friday the 13th, the water mitigation company crew brought an industrial dehumidifier and air scrubber. I had never heard of an air scrubber; I was told that it’s like a power washer for the air.
When the company’s industrial equipment was turned on, I turned off the dehumidifier I’d purchased. That small device I’d purchased was able to remove moisture from the air one room at a time; the plumbing company’s industrial equipment was able to remove moisture from the entire house. It was the right call to make, to purchase a dehumidifier and get it working as fast as possible. As a result of that quick action, there was no mold or mildew growth in the carpet or vinyl floors, and no damage to the wooden floors or carpeting.
The amount of noise in the house, from the industrial dehumidifier and air scrubber, was horrible. I couldn’t listen to any music, watch any television, over the noise of the industrial equipment. Thankfully my remote for my Roku television (shout out to Roku, I love you Roku, you’re the best!) has a headphone jack in it. I plugged my headphones into my remote and listened to the TV that way.
Hours later when I went to bed, I wondered how I would ever get to sleep. The equipment was in the living room, thankfully, which made it quieter in the bedroom. (Irony being, I use a white noise app to sleep. I had it set to purring kitten-crackling fireplace-running shower. I've since changed the shower sound to ocean waves.) As luck would have it, the oppressive noise from the equipment in the living room translated to white noise in the bedroom. Surprisingly, I got a very good night’s sleep that night.
V
Monday morning, October 16, the demolition began. The demolition crew removed the vinyl flooring in the kitchen. They removed the vanity from the main bathroom and placed it in my dining area. They then took up some of the flooring in that bathroom. They then removed drywall from the bathroom, vanity height, as well as some drywall in the walk-in closet, on the other side of the bathroom wall.
Day two of demolition was extensive. They removed the flooring in the bathroom, and then began on the kitchen. They removed the lower kitchen cabinets, and put them in the dining area, next to the vanity. They then cut the drywall on all the exposed walls, a foot up the wall, all around the kitchen. In other words, they gutted my kitchen. It was horrible.
For those who don’t know me, and maybe for those that do-I am a person who cannot stand sounds of construction happening. Hammering, sawing, drilling, cutting, any sustained loud noises set me on edge. I was fine with the hammering and drilling sounds. However, when the cutting started, it immediately upset me. I was on edge. Worse than a dentist drill, I knew what that sound meant: they were cutting my house apart. It was triggering to sit in my living room and listen to it in its entirety. It almost sent me into a panic attack.
When the crew was done removing the drywall from the affected area, I had little to no walls in the kitchen at all. When demolition was done, drywall had been removed from the kitchen, bathroom, and walk-in closet. When the light was turned on in the bathroom, it shone through the kitchen. It was a staggering sight.
After the drywall was cut out, the crew then treated the cement floor in the kitchen and bathroom with a power wash, to cleanse and sanitize the floor.
At the end of the demolition and power wash, the great dry out took place. The crew added six additional air scrubbers around the home. The noise was incomprehensible. It was like living inside a wind tunnel. That too triggered me. I couldn’t even hear myself think. Another thing that was troubling was the vibration from all the air scrubbers. It felt like the entire house was shaking. Sitting on the couch, the house was shaking. The vibration made me feel physically ill, I could barely eat.
For days I had been doing all my “cooking” and food preparation from the living room. The first two days I lived on some crackers, Halloween candy, and some cookies that had been in my freezer. For breakfast I ate a cookie, for lunch some crackers and a piece of candy, and a burger or other meal from a fast-food chain for dinner.
Two days later, I was able to get access to my kitchen. I was able to get a loaf of bread out of my freezer, a box of cereal from the pantry, and peanut butter and jelly to make sandwiches. I then had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (AKA pb&j) for lunch and dinner. For breakfast: handfuls of dry cereal. You see, I couldn’t get to the milk that was expiring in the fridge; if I could get to it to pour into my cereal bowl, I’d have to put it right back once I’d used it. So pb&j’s and dry cereal was it. Complete with Diet Coke that was sitting on my dining room table in the middle of the living room. I was, in essence, camping out in my living room, as I couldn’t access my refrigerator, microwave, or toaster oven. I couldn’t have a bowl of cereal or prepare a frozen meal, or make a grilled cheese sandwich.
Oh, and some might be wondering about how I was handling, well, to be delicate, other matters while living in my home in this time. I thankfully have second bathroom that I could use in the meantime. I could use the restroom, wash my hands, brush my teeth, etc. But I didn’t trust my plumbing, or the state of the plumbing overwhelm, enough to take a bath. The first few days I was taking sponge baths. Occasionally I would take a bath in two inches of water, washing and rinsing my hair by pouring a huge cup of water over my head.
For anyone that knows me, I hate camping. I’m what is known as an “indoor girl.” I have never been good at camping; I hate it with every fiber of my being. I am one that enjoys the simple joys in life: a bowl of cereal. A warm bath. A cup of hot chocolate. A hot meal made from a frozen dinner in the microwave. A bagel toasted with cheese under the broiler in the toaster oven. Lighting a candle. Not large, lofty aspirations, the simple joys in life. I couldn’t do any of them, as to half of my house was compromised. I had no choice but to camp out in my living room until we could put Humpty Dumpty back together again.
To be clear, I did not just refer to my home as Humpty Dumpty. I had a conversation with her and named her “Casita”, which means “Little House” in Spanish. I spoke to her, and thanked her for protecting the cats and I, keeping us safe from harm. I told Casita that I was sorry that we’d had a plumbing problem and assured her that I would do everything to make things right. In fact, I made Casita a promise that I would make things right for her. Promises are huge to me, I've had so many broken promises in the past. If I make a promise, I'm going to keep it. That was my promise to Casita: everything that was removed would be replaced and repaired. I would make sure of it.
VI
That night, shortly after retiring to bed, I suddenly heard a meow off in the distance. I instinctively knew who it was, my “problem child” cat, Jazz. As the lyric goes in the musical “Cats”, Jazz is on the wrong side of every door, and gets into anything and everything.
Hearing the meow in the distance, I instantly went into a panic. I opened the door to the walk-in closet to-no Jazz. I opened the door to the bathroom-no Jazz. I then looked in the kitchen-no Jazz. I didn’t know where she was, and I didn’t know where to look. Mind you this was around midnight when all the house was quiet and dark. I used my flashlight on my cellphone as I searched for Jazz. As I couldn’t get into the kitchen, I couldn’t get to the light switch to turn it on.
As I continued to search for Jazz, I shone my flashlight in the kitchen. Suddenly there she was, her eyes reflecting in the dark, sitting under the wall between the kitchen and the bathroom, where there had been a wall just hours before. I shouted her name, and she took off running-in the opposite direction. She went running through all four walls in all three rooms-kitchen, bathroom, walk-in closet. I finally had success, breaching the kitchen barricade, and chasing her out, back through the barricade.
When I had gotten Jazz out of the kitchen, I was finally able to breathe again. My heart left my throat and entered my chest, and I was able to lay down and get some sleep. Until the same thing happened all over again thirty minutes later, when Jazz made another great escape into the great abyss of my home. She was easier to catch that time, thank heaven. I then doused her with water from the ever-horrible threat to housecats everywhere known as the water bottle. She must have been wet for hours. I didn’t feel the least bit sorry about it because I then had to keep sentinel watch all night at my post, to keep Jazz out of the kitchen area. I literally sat up all night to keep Jazz out of the kitchen. I think I got an hour of sleep. She eventually retreated to the second bedroom, where their cat climbers, scratchers, and litter boxes are. She remained there all day.
The next night Jazz finally came out of the second bedroom. She sheepishly walked into the living room as if to ask, “Can I come out? Is it safe out here?” I called her over to me and gave her some pets and cuddles, to let her know that it was safe to venture into the house. But not in the kitchen.
I was able to get to bed at a reasonable hour that night, and got caught up on some much needed sleep. Everything was just fine….until 7am that morning. I then again heard a distant meow. Oh no, not again!! I went looking for Jazz; I called out to her and couldn’t find her. I then wearily went back to bed. About 10 minutes later, there was a banging at the door to the walk-in closet, which sent me jumping out of my skin. The knocking was coming from inside the closet. (The call is coming from inside the house!!) I opened the door, and Jazz came flying out. I knew then and there that I’d have to confine the cats at night. I had no choice, I had to keep them out of there. Okay, to be fair, keep Jazz out of there. Blues didn’t venture in there, she knows better.
Friends and family tried to assure me about Jazz being in that space: “She’ll be alright, she can’t hurt anything….” However, I had trepidations about it. Number one, if there were no walls where there once had been walls 24 hours earlier, no cat needed to be there. Number two, what’s in between walls? Wooden framing and floor joists. One false move and she could have gotten one of her feet stuck in a wooden floor joist. And, let’s be real, she’s an animal; she could have urinated or defecated back there! I wasn’t taking the chance; I wasn’t going to give her the option doing any of the above. That night I confined the cats in my second bedroom. It was the first solid night of sleep in over a week.
The next morning, I went to work, came home, and let the cats out. I had been told the contractor that his crew would not begin work on my home for another week. I knew I couldn’t realistically confine the cats for a week. I had to trust that if Jazz got her little self in there, she’d be able to get her little self out. Of course, the human concept of trust was not something that a cat’s walnut sized brain could learn or grasp or obey.
The next morning, at about 6:30am, I again heard a distant meow from Jazz. She had done it again; she went into the bowels of the house and was meowing with all her might. I went around to the kitchen and looked for her. I spotted her immediately, as she was sitting in the middle of the kitchen like she owned it. It’s her kitchen after all, I’m just the human being that she’s allowed to live in the home and use the kitchen, and whatever else I fancy. I snapped my fingers at Jazz and yelled, “OUT!” With that she sprang up from the floor and exited the kitchen in haste.
As I watched her leave the kitchen, I saw how she had gotten into the kitchen. The lower kitchen cabinet that was blocking the kitchen was taped shut, which wouldn’t allow her in. However, the vanity had one piece of tape on it at the top of the two doors. While it kept the doors closed at the top of the doors, it created a huge gap at the bottom of the doors. Jazz peeked her head in, opened the doors just wide enough for her to slip through. Here’s an interesting fact about cats: cats have a malleable collarbone, allowing them to fit into tight spaces. If they can fit their collarbone through a specific space or dimension, they will be able to fit the entire body through that same space.
And of course, here’s an interesting fact about bathroom vanity cabinets: what’s at the back of bathroom vanity? A huge hole so the plumbing from the sink can fit inside the vanity. This entire time I had built a Les Miserables style barricade at the start of the kitchen to keep the cats out of there. And what did Jazz do? Like any sensible cat, she pressed her face between the doors of the vanity, got her body through that small space, and then calmy waltzed out the back. Clever girl. (Intentional Jurassic Park reference.) I shouldn’t have named her Jazz-I should have named her Houdini instead.
VII
The next day, the first day of the dry out, a supervisor from the water mitigation company came to check on the equipment and the progress of the dry out. Things were moving along as expected, and things were drying out at the proper rate. The supervisor would need to come out two more times, in subsequent days, to check on the progress of the dry out. So, I lived in limbo, in a holding pattern, waiting for the house to dry. I was living in a wind tunnel, eating via camping out in my living room, taking sponge baths, watching TV via headphones plugged into my Roku remote control.
The second day, the same supervisor came out again to check my home, to see how the great dry out was going. The bathroom and closet were completely dry, and the kitchen was mostly dry-it would need one more day. With this news the air scrubber in my bedroom was turned off. The air scrubbers in the bathroom were then turned and aimed at the kitchen to aide in the dry out. The din in the house then dropped a few decibels; I was glad to have less noise in my house.
The third day, the manager from the water mitigation company came out. The verdict was in, everything was dry. That meant that the industrial machinery in my home could be finally turned off. It had been a week of constant noise. An entire week. The second the equipment was turned off, I instinctively let out an exhalation from the very fiber of my being. “Aaaahhhh.” Relief at last. I had never been so pleased to have peace and quiet in my home before. I needed quiet. I craved it. At that point, the manager laughed and said, “I know, it’s like living in an airport; right??” I replied, “No sir: a wind tunnel. You can hear yourself think in an airport.” He laughed and agreed. As it was a Friday afternoon, the crew had the weekend off, and couldn’t return until Monday to pick up the equipment. That was fine with me. I needed a weekend of peace.
The days that followed were absolute bliss. I had two weeks alone in my home, just Jazz and Blues and I. No workmen, no plumbers, no water mitigation specialists, no demolition crew, just peace and quiet and calmness. And bliss. Absolute bliss.
VIII
Monday morning, October 23, the water mitigation crew came out to remove their industrial equipment. That was another level of bliss, getting that equipment removed from my home. It meant that chapter of the saga was over, and a new chapter could begin.
Wednesday morning October 25, a contractor from a local company came out and inspected the scope of the work. Thankfully, the water mitigation crew was able to salvage all the kitchen cabinets as well as the vanity from the bath. All the project needed was drywall for the kitchen, bathroom, and walk-in closet, and new flooring for the kitchen and bathroom.
Before the “overwhelm event”, I had peel and stick vinyl tile in my kitchen and bathroom. Thankfully, the contractor was able to upgrade me to waterproof laminate flooring! God forbid, if this were to ever happen again, it wouldn’t damage my floor, or anyone else’s unit either.
It’s at this point that I should share what I failed to mention-my home is a second-floor unit in a multi-unit building. I was extremely fortunate in that neither my downstairs neighbor, nor the neighbor behind me, received any water damage from this event. I thanked the Lord, my lucky stars, my spirit guides, angels, and all souls that watch over me that the damage wasn’t any worse.
That afternoon, the contractor submitted the estimate to my insurance company. The amount was approved, and the flooring was ordered. I was then asked if I could be home the next morning so the contractor could drop off the flooring. I told them that it would be fine, and that it would work with my schedule.
The next morning, a second contractor showed up with the flooring. He then told me that he was there to begin hanging new drywall. “Right now?!?” I asked, completely surprised at the news. The contractor replied, “Uh, yeah…” As if to say, “Didn’t you know this was happening today lady?!? Duh!”
I then called my manager, to let her know that the crew was at my house to begin drywall repair. My manager was more than understanding about it and let me have the time off work. The drywall could begin. At that point the contractor remarked, “If it’s a problem, we can start the drywall tomorrow.” I replied, “No! Let’s do this today! This needs to happen. I have a cat walking through walls!!”
IX
The first day of the repair, the crew hung drywall in the kitchen and bathroom, taped, mudded, and did whatever else goes into adding drywall. I was told it would be a three-day process, involving sanding and painting, etc. That night I let the cats roam free, confident that if Jazz got in the kitchen, she’d only be in the kitchen. I wouldn’t have to chase her through three rooms anymore.
The next day, the second day of the drywall repair, the lower kitchen cabinets and bathroom vanity were put back into place. They also hung the drywall in the walk-in closet. (It was a different thickness than the drywall in the rest of the house. Go figure. Who knew?!?!?)
At that point it was the weekend again. The walls were in place and looked fantastic. Little Jazz, AKA Houdini, showed no interest in the kitchen anymore. It was as if she said, “The walls are back up? Are you serious? It’s back to just being a kitchen?!? What’s the fun in that?!?”
That night I splurged bought myself a gallon of milk and a few frozen dinners. Joy and rapture: I could finally get into the kitchen again, and had access to my kitchen appliances again! That was truly a milestone worth celebrating! I got the macaroni and cheese meal, and a personal mini 4 slice pizza. The macaroni and cheese was absolutely divine. Of course, I did have little Houdini in my face, begging to lick the bowl clean, as always.
The next morning, it was truly amazing. The crew didn’t work on weekends, and I had another weekend to myself. More importantly, I had my house all to myself!! There were no workmen in my home doing anything. I was able to sit back, relax, and have a bowl of cereal. Immeasurable joy!! I cannot even describe the feeling of having a bowl of cereal. For those who don’t know me, I have a bowl of cereal for breakfast every morning. I’ll even have a bowl of cereal for dinner if I feel like it. That’s a habit that started back in college. If I didn’t like the meal the cafeteria was serving for dinner, I’d go round and get a bowl of cereal. If I want a small snack after a meal, a small bowl of cereal is perfect. Not too sweet, and not loaded with sugar to keep me up at night.
It was a time of bliss, in the peace and quiet of the house, as the prior weekend had been. It was a magical feeling. I thanked Casita for her constant protection and assured her we were more than halfway done with the restoration process.
X
Monday morning the crew came at their normal time and worked for about an hour on the drywall in the walk-in closet and pantry area. With that they said they’d be back in the morning and would work through the entire day. I had spoken with my manager about the upcoming day long repair and was able to get the day off in advance.
The next day, Halloween, a contractor showed up to install my new laminate flooring. I then asked him if he was going to seal the floor. The subfloor in the kitchen and bathroom are concrete. The original plan was to seal the floor, to fill the cracks in the cement floor, and to ensure a proper subfloor for the new laminate flooring. The installer informed me that no, he wasn’t there to pour the floor; that should have already been done prior to his arrival, as it takes 24 hours to cure. He then made a comment about making it work, and possibly coming back the next day. I replied, “I’ve taken today off from work; I was told this would be done today.” He then placed a call to his supervisor and asked what to do in this situation. As he spoke on the phone, I thought, “Oh great, now I have to lock up the cats again!”
Within minutes he got an answer-they would put a moisture barrier down, to protect the subfloor. As it was explained to me, the new waterproof floor would get wet, before the moisture barrier would get wet, before the subfloor would get wet, before the downstairs neighbor’s ceiling would get wet. It sounded like the perfect way to go, given the time crunch the crew was under. Besides, I had taken so much time off work already. This way, I wouldn’t miss any more work, and the project would be completed that day. I approved the change, and we proceeded with the project.
The contractor then went to the nearest home improvement store to purchase the moisture barrier material, as well as transitions for the kitchen and bathroom. Moments later the contractors who had been doing the repair work arrived. They began taping and painting in the bathroom, and installing baseboards. When the flooring contractor returned, he began installing the floor in the kitchen. When that was completed, the crews swapped places, kitchen for bathroom.
At one point, while one of the contractors was working with a circular saw, making mitered cuts on the baseboards, their saw gave out. The contractor said something like, “I think I’ve blown a breaker. Where’s your breaker box?” I then showed him where it was. He then came back and asked, “Where’s your grounding reset?” At first, I didn’t know what he was talking about. I’m not an electrician, I didn’t have the first idea what he was talking about. He looked around for a few moments, and remarked, “I found the grounding reset. I hit the reset button, but nothing happened….” I just looked at him and shrugged my shoulders. He then did the same. I found a nearby outlet he could use to continue using the circular saw. I didn’t think anything of it. Apparently neither did the contractor.
XI
Several hours later, the construction was done. The flooring had been installed and looked beautiful. The paint was newly applied and looked amazing. At last, the house was finally whole. Everything was back to normal. No, not the former normal, a new normal. A bright and shiny normal, where everything is new. Well, alright, half the house is new.
It was an amazing feeling, to have most of the work done in the house. I shut the door that night and felt a sense of peace I hadn’t felt in three weeks. Again, it was Halloween, my least favorite day of the year. But that day, it was perfect. I had access to my kitchen, so I could prepare a meal again, enjoy a bowl of cereal again. The main bathroom was completed, which meant I could take a shower and wash my hair. I could finally take a relaxing bath again, in more than two inches of water. The house was completed, and no detail was overlooked. Or so I thought.
The next day I came home from work and opened the walk-in closet. I’d kept it closed to keep the cats out of it as the paint was still wet. However, the paint in the closet was dry now, as it had been 24 hours since completion of the work. When I opened the closet, it was like walking into a freezer. I couldn’t believe the temperature difference. Where was the cold air coming from? I scoured the area for any open sections of wall in the bathroom and closet. The breeze was familiar to me, in the days that I didn’t have walls in three rooms of my house. Who knew that walls have drafts behind them?
I finally found the culprit-the vanity. The contractors had cut a hole in the vanity where there had been water damage. It was left uncovered, and cold air was pouring through the opening. It was blatantly obvious that there was a problem; one could easily see where the flooring started and stopped-and where there was a 3-foot-wide hole with cold air seeping out of it. I contacted the contractors, to let them know that I’d located an area that escaped their attention. They came out two days later and covered the vanity with a piece of white baseboard, to match the rest of the bathroom. It was a ten-minute fix, problem solved.
While the contractors were covering the hole in the vanity, I had a plumber out to replace the garbage disposal and kitchen sink. The disposal, if you recall, was part of the problem that caused the overwhelm event in the first place. To my surprise it cost over $1,300. Upon completion of the installation of the garbage disposal, I was told to run my dishwasher, completely empty, on the “sanitize” cycle. As there’d been an overwhelm event in the entire system, who knows what type of water got in the dishwasher. As a precaution, I was told to use vinegar or detergent in the cycle, neither of which I had on hand. I made a grocery order the next day and ordered a small bottle of distilled white vinegar.
The next night, I came home after work, vinegar in hand, ready to run the dishwasher. To my complete surprise, the dishwasher was unresponsive. I had no power to the dishwasher. I went around my home, checking to see what devices and outlets had power. The brand-new garbage disposal had power, as well as the outlet at the end of the kitchen cabinet, but the dishwasher did not. The dishwasher is hardwired in, there’s no plug to pull out and plug back into an outlet.
I couldn’t understand why I would have power to the garbage disposal, and in the outlet at the end of the kitchen cabinet, but no power to the dishwasher. I then remembered what the contractor said on Halloween, that he’d blown a breaker. I then grew suspicious and began testing outlets in my home. I found the outside electrical outlets, on my balcony, weren’t working.
Because those two outlets weren’t working, and the dishwasher wasn’t working, I reached out to the contractor company. I told them I didn’t have power to the dishwasher, and that I’d remembered that the contractors had blown a breaker when they were there four days earlier. The supervisor of the contractor company said he’d get someone out to me as soon as humanly possible.
The next day, Sunday, around 2pm, an electrician from the contractor company came to inspect the outlets in my home. It was immediately clear to him that a breaker had been tripped. The electrician installed a new G.F.C.I., a Ground Fault Circuit Interrupter. To his complete shock, the GFCI was fried the second he installed it. That wasn’t the source of the problem-the problem, evidently, lay somewhere else.
The electrician then began to inspect outlets throughout my home. Of course, he did a more thorough job of investigating, as I had no clue what I was looking for. As the electrician continued his investigation, he found that half the house didn’t have power!! He eventually found the source of the problem: a grounded wire at one of the two outside outlets on my balcony. He fixed that wire, put in a new GFCI, and the problem was fixed. Who knew one wire could eliminate power to half a house! I’m so glad there wasn’t power to the dishwasher, so that the electrician could come out and check everything. If I hadn’t acted on this, it could have caused a fire!! I’m so thankful the problem was caught and fixed in a timely manner.
XII
The date the electrician was in my home was November 5. With that, my house was officially done. There were no plumbing jobs to do, no baseboard or trim to install, no last coat of paint that needed to be applied. A few minutes after the electrician left, I set about decorating for the Christmas season, by putting a nail in my front door, to hang my Christmas wreath.
For those who are regular readers on this blog, I’ve already written about the drama that was the replacement of my front door. It took several months to get the project approved by insurance, and then manufactured and installed. When the water overwhelm event happened, the new door had been in place for three months. There was so much industrial equipment brought into my home over the month of water mitigation, demolition, and repair, that it should come as no surprise that there’s a brand-new gouge, four inches long, in my brand-new door. It lasted three months before it was damaged.
Friends and family have been offering me tips and tricks on how I can fix the scratch in the door. I’m not fixing it. I’ve been through it this year, to Hades and back. I’ve lived through a great deal. I’m leaving the gouge as a badge of honor. I can weather the storm, I can bear a scar, I can hammer a nail in my door to bring myself some yuletide joy.
For anyone who knows me, or for anyone who’s a devoted reader of this blog, you know that I put up my Christmas tree on Halloween, because I absolutely detest the day. Last year I put up my tree around the second week of October, the time that I had the water event. Nothing in my home was in its proper place, aside from my bed and couch. And television. That beauty didn’t go anywhere!
As much as I wanted it to happen, I couldn’t even begin to decorate for the holidays as I had to put my house together. That had to come first. I couldn’t create Christmas Bliss when the entire house was in shambles. But that was the first step to getting back to normal, the first step to normalcy: putting the Christmas wreath on the front door.
XIII
When it came to my house, first task I tackled was going through the pile of material in my bedroom. Any household item that was previously in my kitchen or bathroom was now piled against two of the four walls of my bedroom. I had to go through each and every item to determine if I was going to keep it. If I did decide to keep something, where was it going to go? I had to be mindful of the things I was letting back in my space. If I decided to keep something, I had to find a place for it.
For example, I had a tube of caulking that I had purchased years ago. It was in a “utility drawer” in a Ziploc bag. I don’t remember when I purchased it; it could have been two or three years ago, or ten years ago for all I know. I don’t need a tube of caulking that I bought years ago. It probably wouldn’t have even still been good anyway if I’d tried to use it. If I didn’t need it in that moment in time, I wasn’t keeping it.
Again, there were items covering two of the four walls of my bedroom. I first sorted through the piles of items, making different piles for “kitchen”, and “bathroom.” Once I sorted through the items, I got empty IKEA bags (I love my IKEA bags!!) and sorted them into the bags-one for bedroom, one for kitchen, one for bathroom, etc. For those who haven’t seen an IKEA bag, they are absolutely huge. And I filled the bags I had.
In the kitchen IKEA bag, I had pots, pans, mixing bowls, mugs, cups, kitchen utensils, Tervis straws, hot chocolate mugs (which have a 2 or 3 cup capacity), pet bowls-both food and water-plus any and every kitchen implement you can think of. Well, any kitchen implements that a non-cook would have.
In the bathroom IKEA bag was every bathroom item you can think of-toilet paper, toothbrushes, toothpaste, hairspray, hair ties, rags, cleaners, and on and on and on.
In the third IKEA bag I had clothes and linens-sheets, towels, hand towels, wash cloths, etc. Before my putting them in an IKEA bag the pile of laundry was almost waist high.
I also had several paint cans, leftover from numerous painting projects I had done in my home over the years. I put those in a large rectangular laundry basket. They’re several years old, so none of them should still be liquid. However, if one did accidentally open and spill, it would be contained in the laundry basket.
I always thought that paint was toxic and couldn’t be thrown away. I thought I had to take the paint to a local recycling center on one of their “tox drop” days. I’ve since learned that latex paint is not toxic. If it’s solid, after years of non-use, it can be disposed of safely in the trash. For paint cans that still have liquid paint, cat litter can be put into the paint can, to help it solidify faster. Once it's solidified, it’s safe to throw away. Lesson learned. Task to do at another time.
Ironically, my first two days of vacation, I had done a purge of the items in my home. This was before the overwhelm event. The overwhelming message from the universe: “Do it again. Don’t stop. You’ll know when you’re done.”
XIV
After sorting through all my earthly possessions, it was time to put things back. Of all the items that had been in my kitchen, only 2% of it went back in. 98% of it was thrown away or added to the donation pile. The same for the items that were in my bathroom, 2% of it went back, 98% was thrown away or added to the donation pile.
Now that I’d put the chosen items back in the kitchen and bathroom, it was time to get rid of the items I’d chosen to discard. I made several trips to the garbage dumpster in my complex. I also now have a large quantity of materials to donate. I’ll be doing that on some day off in the future.
The next task on the list, after going through the myriad of items in my bedroom: going through the myriad of items in my walk-in closet. Everything that had been on the left of the closet before the overwhelm event was placed on the right side of the closet, in a precarious pile on top of wire shelving. The pile of items stretched from the floor to the ceiling. I kid you not, floor to ceiling!
I sorted through every item in the closet, as I had done with items that had been in the bedroom. There were winter hats, gloves, scarves, sweaters, sweatshirts, long sleeve t-shirts, short sleeve t-shirts, Christmas shirts, library shirts, Tee Turtle t-shirts (I love Tee Turtle!), pajamas, bags, purses, luggage, sheets, towels, blankets, throws, sheet sets, pillowcases, and on and on and on! For every item had to physically handle it and contemplate whether to keep the item, or to donate it or trash it.
Sorting through those items took several days to complete. As I sorted through the items I decided to keep, from the mountain of worldly possessions, I knew that, if I was going to keep it, I would have to find a place for it. That meant a complete reorganization of the walk-in closet and front entry closet. (It had been emptied to store laminate flooring before installation.)
Sheets, towels, linens, pajamas, luggage, purses, t-shirts, sweaters, you name it, if I was keeping it, I had to find a place for it. I was doing a purge as I have done before, in the Marie Kondo method of reorganization. Long story short, Kondo’d the hell out of my condo. It took over a week to complete.
XV
A week later, the sorting was done, the kitchen and bathroom were restored to working order, and items were sorted and put into place. With that, the house was done. At that point, what was my number one desire to do in my house? Decorate for Christmas of course!
When the electrician was done on that Sunday (November 5), that was the last official job that needed to be completed in my home. About 30 minutes after the electrician left that day, I found the smallest nail in my new picture hanging kit and hammered it into my front door. I then put my Christmas wreath on my new front door, putting the peephole at the center of the wreath. It looks amazing and felt amazing, as it was my first step back to normalcy.
My house has been through demolition and devastation. I’m proud we’ve emerged shiny and new. The house looks amazing. The new coat of paint looks great. The new flooring in the kitchen and bathroom look phenomenal! I’m glad to have waterproof flooring to last me a lifetime. Well, maybe not my lifetime, but the next ten to fifteen years or more.
Now that the Christmas wreath was on the door, there was only one thing to do: keep decorating! I put out my red mercury glass Christmas trees on my kitchen bar, which I will fill up with Christmas cards as I receive them throughout the season. I also put up my mercury glass Santa, a staple of Christmas decorating in my home. It’s not Christmas without Santa!
XVI
It’s been almost two months since the overwhelm event. Looking back on the experience, there’s not a better word for it in the English language: overwhelm. I chuckle as I write this because, as I’ve written it so many times, I can no longer spell it! The plumbing system was overwhelmed, the cats have been overwhelmed, the house has been overwhelmed, and I’ve been overwhelmed. Heck even the air I breathed in my home was overwhelmed. The entire thing took close to a month to resolve.
I’m pleased to say that a sense of calmness and peacefulness has set into my home. I’m slowly learning to trust that things are fine in my home. The plumbing has been inspected, the disposal was replaced, the electricity was repaired, and the new walls and floors have been installed. The house is safe, the house is sound.
I’ve also begun to relax and let go of the hypervigilance mode I found myself in. Hypervigilance a wonderful tool to help one cope with trauma, as well as that which is entirely out of our control. That being said, it’s an all-encompassing and exhausting state of being that cannot be maintained long term. Hypervigilance can cause untold damage, and be detrimental to one’s physical and mental health.
XVII
It’s been a rollercoaster ride for me, full of soaring highs and stomach-churning lows. I don’t do roller coasters. Ever. I get no joy at screaming my lungs out at 100 miles per hour. It’s been a lot for me to handle, mentally, emotionally. For the first month after the event I was in survival mode, which is when the hypervigilance kicked in. It’s been a lot for me to process, to come to terms with, and to recover from.
For weeks I couldn’t read a book. I’ve been reading the same book for over a month. I can usually read two or three books a month. I’ve had a tornado of thoughts going through my mind; I couldn’t begin to sit down and concentrate on reading a book. If I read the words on the page, it doesn’t mean I could maintain the information in my head.
Similarly, I had trouble watching TV shows or movies. I’d get lost in thought, only to suddenly realize that the program I was watching was ending. I was lost in thought and missed the entire thing! Thank heaven for the rewind button!
XVIII
This overwhelm event has been a lot for me to handle. Over the course of this event, I believe I had between fifteen and twenty different people in my home. I don’t have that many people in my home in five years’ time! And those that come into my home are people I know and love-not random strangers!
Looking to the future, I will be replacing my hot water heater next. It is eighteen years old and in need of replacing. Again, I’m in a second-floor unit. The last thing I need is another water catastrophe.
It’s been nice to take back my home, to reclaim my space. Things are back to normal-a new normal. I cannot go back to what was, I can only create anew, setting an intention of peace for the space. I want to create an oasis of calm in my home, a place of peace.
I have set an intention of peace and love and light for my home. Anything else is not allowed in my home. That is the boundary I have set for those entering my home. That is the boundary I have set for those I allow in my home. That is the boundary I have set for the mood within my home. Peace and calm. Quiet and peace. Silent night, calm and bright.
XIX
Finally, thankfully, I was finally able to put up my Christmas tree. It was weeks after I normally put it up. To tell the truth, it was weeks after I wanted to put it up. But, it is what it is.
I put up the tree on Friday, November 10, one month to the day after the overwhelm event. It was my way of marking the entire event complete. Casita, the kitties and I can now move on from this, from all that has happened, with confidence and assurance of the repairs and restorations done to my home.
Having the Christmas tree up has done wonders for my mood, as well as that of the cats. We’re enjoying the calm and the quiet, the relaxation and the peace. The stress of the events of this month will soon become a distant memory. That’s part of why I wrote this piece, to commemorate and remember what I’ve been through.
Now I can rest and relax and lean into the holiday season. I can indulge in the things I love about the season-the Christmas tree, the hot chocolate, the Christmas movies, the Claymation specials, the Muppet/Sesame Street/Fraggle Rock holiday specials, the new Christmas albums out this year (you go Cher!), the simple joys.
XX
Like the gouge on the new front door, this event is staying with me. I’m ever on watch as the guardian and protector of my home. My home kept me safe when I needed her to; it’s my job to return the favor, and to do my due diligence. It’s also my job to protect myself financially, to save up all that I can to pay for any repairs that pop up. My insurance paid for all the demolition and repairs this time; I might not be so fortunate the next time.
I recently watched a video online of a tour of the home of a celebrity for Architectural Digest. Alright, I’ll divulge-the celebrity was Patrick Dempsey. He was just named People Magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive.” I heartily agree; the honor is long overdue. As such, his videos are filling up my YouTube feed. I digress. Regarding his home, Dempsey said: “…you’re a caretaker of a house, and you have to be very careful to nurture it and sustain it and hand it on to someone else eventually.”
That phrase resonated greatly for me. I’m not a homeowner, I’m the caretaker of the home I live in. My job is to care for my home with a watchful eye for any problems that might pop up, whenever it happens. Because, as this “overwhelm event” proved, the unthinkable, the unimaginable, can happen. I just need to not panic when it does.
Casita, thank you for keeping my girls and I safe. I will do my utmost to protect you. Thank you for protecting us in turn.
Overwhelm: to upset, to overthrow; to cover completely or submerge; to overcome by superior force or numbers, or overpower in thought or feeling.
There isn’t a better word for this event, or for what I experienced, in the English language.
Gutted kitchen
Completed kitchen
Gutted bathroom
Completed bathroom
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