Inundada

"It ain't funny Magee." That old chestnut from Fibber Magee and Molly springing to the forefront of my consciousness as a warning to my usual self to recite the facts and just the facts...Ma'am. Of course, my faithful readers being hundreds of years younger than I are no doubt wondering who are Fibber Magee and Molly and if there is a forefront is there also an aftfront? And further, they probably don't get the facts just the facts Dragnet reference. It must be hell to be young.

So, for them I will try to write this account of an "inundada" in an orderly and linear fashion, straightforward and without tongue planted firmly in cheek. I'll just paint the grim word picture and be done with it, so that everyone can understand exactly what occurred on the eve of Wednesday the 10th of October in the year 2007. Yup, that's what I'll do.

Well NO, of course I won't, because there is something inherently funny in standing ankle deep in a raging creek with a broom in hand trying to direct the water's flow. Especially if you are indoors at the time.

Here's how that began more or less. I say more or less because the only one present for the entire event was Gustavo the Wonder Dog. His dog's eye view may not be reliable, but it's the only one we have. He told me that it all went from bad to worse about three o,clock when the rain,intermittently heavy throughout the day, leaped into the torrential category. Gus paused here in his recitation to point out that this was probably my fault for leaving him home alone in the first place and I should never do that again. I didn't quite get the connection there, but I'm not that fluent in dog. He said that when the water first began oozing under the back door he barked his head off trying to frighten it back, but to no avail. As the water crept into the rest of the house, kitchen first, then dining room, living room, oficina and finally bedrooms and baths, it brought with it it's usual rainy season companion, mud. Gus said that at this point his only concern was that we'd blame it on him. He then pointed out that despite the floor's ugly mess, he never even once jumped onto the bed or the sofas. He said, "I was a good boy throughout, where's my bone?"

We, the humans, were at the time motoring back from an errand in Daveed and remarking on just how heavy the rain had become. Our wipers could barely handle the torrent. This again is more or less as I don't speak human fluently either. As I came up the drive and onto the carport, I looked through the car's tinted driver's side window and noticed what looked like oil flowing from under our front door. I said something like, what the? and rolled down the window. It was mud. The tint had made it appear black. I could also see Gus looking frantic behind one of the small windows that rise from the ground vertically on either side of our door. His expression said - and here I don't know how this is possible - exactly what I've used to start this piece, to wit, it ain't funny Magee.

I opened the door quickly and Gus came splashing out with his usual I'm sooo happy to see you and his unusual it's not my fault, it's not my fault. I yelled "down" and "off" a couple of times because I didn't want his wet paws to get my pants dirty. Oh my oh my and yeah right. A minute later I was soaked to the knees.

Those of you who have been to our rental house know that there is a back door off a hallway that leads to a front door. Should you not turn off and enter the house at large, it's a straight shot from one door to the other. The water streaming under the back door was headed to the front, but couldn't escape as that door was closed and sealed tight. You could not, however, fault the back door as it was doing its best to hold back Niagara like forces. It was, at least, until I opened it. First though, I opened the front. I then grabbed a broom from somewhere, I don't really remember, it just seemed to materialize in my hands, and began to sweep the water out the front door and onto the patio. It was still raining extremely hard and this action was not really getting the job done to my satisfaction as much of the water was still turning into the house and flooding the other rooms. I know, I said to myself, I'll open the back door and let the stored up water flow through faster. As I went to do so, Woowoo Charly, who had also materialized from nowhere said, and here I will directly quote, "Don't open the door Doc, don't do it, don't do it." These words struck some vague memory chords in what passes for my intellect, something having to do with a chicken and another blog, but were not strong enough to deter me from my, I was certain, noble, heroic and proper deed. How was I to know that not a backyard, but in fact a lake was lurking just beyond the door. As I swung it wide open and the lake rushed on, by and over me about roughly knee high, if by roughly knee high I mean mid thigh, Woowoo Charly was heard to emit other somewhat high pitched sounds, the like of which fail to be captured with mere words. At their end though, she did manage a decent suggestion and here I will return to directly quoting. She said, "close the damn door." Okay, that may not be exact, damn lacking the force of the word she actually used, but it is close enough to convey the strength of her conviction that this was the action most needed. Problem was, it's very hard to close a door against a lake wanting to be a river. Fortunately I am a man of great resources, if small mind and I used the latest of these, my penchant for pumping Irene, I mean iron,(another blog) to bear on the task at hand. Placing my shoulder against the door, I heaved and heaved, because heaving was clearly called for and at last returned the door to its closed position. Turning to Woowoo Charly to get my "well done, good show, you're my hero" I was presented with the broom instead. It and its close personal friend the mop, were not to leave my hands for the next four hours. As Woowoo Charly and I swept away, RTGFKAR, shovel in hand, rpaired the hole in the damaged dyke, returning the water's flow to its original course.

What had occurred before our arrival at the casa was an eventuality always possible, but never really prepared for. On the hillside behind and to the right of the house flows a lovely waterfall. If you examine the scene in a carefully critical rather than a purely beauty appreciative fashion, you will note that the waterfall is aimed at the back corner of the house. Its bank curves away at the last moment and sends its flow along the side of the house and away from it. On this dire day however, the fall of the water had been so strong that the protective bank had collapsed and the whole, mud carrying mess was redirected at our backyard where the only way it could continue its descent was through our back door. Well alrighty then.

The rain did subside eventually allowing Woowoo Charly, RTGFKAR and I to get ahead of the flood plane with our cleaning. We swept water to various doors and drains and then mopped until our aching, aging backs said basta, enough. There was much still wet when we fell into our beds. I can't speak for the others, but my dreams included Moses, Noah and the Titanic. Even the young will understand those references.