Chicken Enchiladas: Night IV

This post actually has nothing to do with my continued Mexican Craze. But I just thought you'd like to know. Tonight I turned up the funk and had some chips and salsa with the enchiladas. And I think I could eat them again tomorrow without remorse.

In other news, I am my own worst nightmare.

This afternoon, I sat down to do some blogging and even post some pictures of Lilly and I shopping at the Gap. Really, there is no finer mother/daughter bonding experience and she enjoys trying on the clothes and making purchases just as I do.

We are kindred spirits although her fashion sense is not yet refined.

Those pictures, however, will have to wait.

Before I finished typing THE VERY FIRST SENTENCE of the post, I got up from the computer to go retrieve my camera from the car (which I should mention is momentarily a Chevy Impala--but that is a story for another time. Like perhaps when my blood pressure returns to normal in 2012.)

I walked past the laundry room and powder room (across the hall from each other) and noticed only what can be described as a flood.

Yes, I said "flood."

Involving water. In my house. Again.

But this time the fault was all mine.

I am totally understanding of the Absent Minded Professor, except that I've never created anything as remotely interesting as flubber. Except chicken enchiladas.

My first thought was slight discouragement at having to wipe up two smallish rooms.

That was before I realized our entire home and all our possessions stored in the basement were afloat somewhere in the Pacific.

Approximately an hour earlier, I started filling the laundry room sink with water AND BLEACH (because it adds both cleanliness and drama to this tale) to give the sink a good scrub. So I plugged up the drain, started the laundry, and left the water running until I planned to return approximately 30 seconds later.

But you see, I am easily distracted by shiny objects.

I went to the bedroom to try to blog a little bit and respond to a month's worth of emails that have slowly built up without so much as a reply from myself. (Because when I sit down to do things like email I FLOOD MY OWN STINKING HOUSE.)

At which point, I also cleaned a few shirts out of the closet and checked my five voicemails that sat on my phone for the last week and fantasized about the Easter dinner centerpiece I would create from moss and fresh flowers.

See? I am already distracted from the main storyline as I tell you about my earlier distractions.

While typing, I thought I heard water running, but I just TOTALLY FORGOT about the sink and assumed it was the washing machine. Because I am slow. And chose to be soothed rather than horrified by the sound of rushing water in my own house.

So as I stood there, mouth agape, on the levee of the hardwood floors (which, GLORY TO GOD, didn't get wet), I rolled up my pants and waded to the faucet, which I promptly turned off.

Reaching below the sink to grab the towels, I realized the water had seeped into the cabinets and the very aborbers with which I planned to dry the floors were already wet.

After turning off the water, I realized there was still a signficant, Niagara Falls-ish roar of water.

Then I noticed the water rushing toward the vents in both the laundry and powder rooms.

Oh. Crap.

Running down to the basement, the tidal wave noise grew louder. Probably because there was standing water in the basement and a lovely aquaduct-system pouring water through the pipes.

All over EVERYTHING. Like photos and Christmas decor and (close your eyes, Susan) pianos.

I shook my head and almost laughed because my choices at this point were a) laughter or b) weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Thus, the clean up began.

While I dried the towels on the deck, the neighborhood kids jumping on the trampoline were all, "Miss Nicole, did you guys go swimming today?!"



"No! I just tried to ruin everything we own including pictures of my children's babyhood and a piano!"

"Cool!"

At this juncture, I probably don't have to point out why the enchiladas were the highlight of my day.