Seatbelts and Under the Deck

Well, here's an update on operation "get my mom to wear a seatbelt." Thus far, it has been a disaster of epic proportions. My dad, mom, aunt, and I went out to eat tonight, and neither my mother or aunt wore their seatbelt. Both were sitting in the backseat. I pointed this out a few times and was completely ignored throughout the trip there. Steadfast and determined, I became a complete annoyance and nuisance on the ride home, clearing my throat to interrupt my mother every time she tried to speak, pointing out our seatbelts and their many uses to her more than 5 times. I again, was tragically ignored. Such a pity. See, it's her choice to wear it or not, and if she had a good reason not to wear it (there is none), then I would let her slide; but so far, she has not responded to my increasing insistence nor given any reason as to why she will not put the seatbelt on. Is she too good for the seatbelt? You're not riding a limo, nor are we chauffeurs. Your not some rich socialite who is just too cool for the seatbelt, or is above said seatbelt. So what is it mom? If you actually read this, go ahead and leave a comment for everyone as to why you're not wearing your seatbelt. I'd love to hear the reason. MOVING ON. (That topic really annoys me now, I'm getting mad.)

Friday night, I got home from a friend's house around midnight or shortly after. I went downstairs to my "apartment" in the basement, and started playing some video games. I could stay up late that night because I didn't have to get up early on Saturday, so I was going to enjoy my late night. Around 12:45 in the morning, while playing a game, I heard the sound of water. Let me explain. When you live in the basement, and you hear the sound of water in the basement after it has rained over 12 freaking inches in the past 8 solid days of rain, it is never, repeat, never a good thing. So, being the good son I am, I pause the game, and decide to check this out. Had it been a scary noise, I would have been a sissy and turned up the volume, cause it would have ended up being a ghost and I'd be dead or possessed somehow. But I digress. The first thing I see is the small window on the other side of the large basement, and the bottom of the window, is leaking. It's not drip drip leaking, it's water pouring in leaking. The water was running right under the window casement, down the cement wall, onto my dad's model desk, and onto the floor. I quickly cleared off the model desk to save whatever I could, and started moving everything nearby up to higher ground. When I say that, I mean I grabbed several chairs and put everything on the chairs. With water pouring in fast and hard, I had to think quick. It was nearing 1 am at this point.

"Let's go wake up my parents."

That was the best I could do. So I run upstairs and wake them up. I let them know that it's not horrible, but it's not good either and they should come down quickly. So, my father gets downstairs first, let's out a few curses and then starts trying to figure out what to do. My mom comes down as well and then soon disappears to somewhere upstairs. I think she went to pray, because as we've learned from the ever intelligent news anchors, any flood is an act of God. (yeah, lots of sarcasm. I have it all here at The D) Shortly after assessing the situation, my dad sees that the half circly of metal outside the window is completely filled up with water and that's why it's leaking. We could pump it out (which we did) but the water under the deck was flowing right to the window because the grade was done improperly by the incompetent builders. If you don't know what that means, go ask someone who does. So the only solution now is to somehow divert the water from the window area. The other thing I should mention that is somewhat important, is that this window is conveniently underneath a rather large deck in the back of the house, making it nearly impossible to access. Awesome.

Someone has to get under the deck and clear it out. Someone brave, courageous, handsome, charming, talented, fearless, and utterly retarded, must save us all. That someone was.... The D. Oh yeah. I put on a pair of crappy pants, a tight as crap shirt from like 6 years ago, and these sneakers I never wear. (I wasn't wearing underwear either. I can't ruin a pair of my fabulous Christmas boxers. Ask me if you really want to know.) I marched up the stairs, opened the back door to a downpour of rain and hellacious winds, trying to steer me of my course of destiny. Walking around the deck, I reach the entry point. Dear Lord, it's about 18" of space between the ground and the bottom of the deck. I drop to my stomach, and start to crawl under the deck to reach my destination, a mere 10 feet from the edge.

The water and thick mud under the deck my friends, was very cold, smelly, and icky. Very icky. I trudged through it on my stomach, crawling and inching my way to the flooded area. There's only about 2 feet between the ground and the bottom of the deck under there by the way, so you can't move too much. With water constantly dripping down on my head and into my freaking eyes (and I can't wipe my eyes cause my hands are covered in mud), I moved dirt with a little spade for the next 30 minutes, slopping around in dirty, smelly water while half into a floor of mud containing who knows what kind of living organisms.

When flood waters knock at your door, The D shall answer. When rain beats at your windows, The D shall be there. When there is water and mud to be slopped around in a two foot high cavern of terror, The D puts on his shoes and slops. Oh yeah. So, um, I maneuvered enough mud and dirt around to divert the water away from the window and build up a little levy around the window. The water drained out and the problem was gone. Happy ending.

Except for fact that my mother still doesn't friggin wear her seatbelt.