soggy homecoming

We were none too excited to return from our trip to Kansas. Not only were we incredibly sad to say goodbye to everyone, but we were coming home to a disaster zone. Our basement had flooded while we were gone.

Our basement was packed with boxes. Really important boxes. The water got 3 inches high, and those boxes sucked it all right up. They were soaked through. All the boxes we'd packed so carefully just a couple months ago.

We're meant to be living the simple life for a few years, having just the minimum in our little house. Everything else is supposed to be living quietly out of eyesight, in that cursed basement. But now it is all exposed, having escaped from the boxes that dissolved into mush. All our wall hangings. Our linens. Rob's thousands of CDs. His radio interviews and memorabilia. Piles of my childhood memories. My prom dresses. My wedding dress. Our wedding photos, cards, and letters. That's the box that hit me the hardest.

Every surface and windowsill in our house has been lined with photos and cards as they dry out. Amazingly, most things are recovering pretty well. The photos and cards are damaged, but still worth keeping. My dresses somehow managed to stay dry, hallelujah! My heart dropped to the floor when I saw the soggy wedding dress box. Thank goodness for plastic liners.

I'm not too fussed about the prom dresses, to be honest. Do I really want to remember that mermaid dress, anyway? This experience has made me roll my eyes at myself more than a couple times. Why on earth am I keeping all this stuff, anyway? Am I going to build myself a Lori Quicke Museum one day? My kids are just going to toss all this stuff out after I've dragged it around for 80 years.

I keep thinking about not storing up treasures on earth, where moth and rust - and floods - destroy. How do we decide what's worth holding onto during our brief time on earth?

In any case, we have a big mess to clean up. So much for our simple life of not dealing with so much stuff. Our stuff keeps escaping from its tidy, contained boxes and demanding our time and attention.

And to completely bore you dear readers to tears, might I also add that our dishwasher has been broken for three weeks. Our house is a total wreck by the end of each day in the best of circumstances. And now we have dirty dishes piled to the ceiling. I'm a neat freak. Living in chaos is not good for my mental health.