That time my apartment flooded…

It’s 6:00AM…which is a perfectly normal time for someone to be awake. It is a terrible time to be awake if you are a night person…or if you were awakened at 3:00AM by the sound of thunder and lightening, followed swiftly by panic at the sound of water trickling into your apartment. Ugh.

By 4:00AM there was at least an inch of dirty, reddish water standing above the carpet, in the main living area, of my studio apartment. Unfortunately, the floor in my apartment has a slight slant (I don’t know the grade) which meant water made it’s way about six feet in, and trickled into my kitchen where there was about a half an inch of standing water on the vinyl floor. Ugh.

But wait, it gets at bit worse. I generally wear rubber house slippers around my apartment. It’s good for my feet, and I have always been suspicious as to the maintenance of carpets in apartments. However, as I was climbing onto my bed to write this post, I “accidentally” stepped on the rug in front of my bed to discover that even though the carpet looked dry, it was squishy and wet. I assume it is the padding underneath. Ugh.

So here I am, sitting on my bed, worried about how quickly my apartment complex will fix this and whether or not they are going to try and make me liable for anything. Also, they don’t do a great job of “fixing” anything so should I rent my own carpet fan/dehumidifier? Wet/dry vac? Pay for a carpet cleaner? Move? And how to pay for any of this? Should I try to pull it out of my meager miscellaneous budget for February? My emergency fund? Why didn’t I get renters insurance? None of my personal property was damaged, would this have been a good investment? Is this what being an adult is?

Yea, okay, so my thoughts spiraled there a bit. Ugh. Well, I am grateful to have the ability to post here. I can’t call my parents because their concern, thoughts about what I should do, and constant need to be updated would create anxiety for me as I try to think through things rationally. To be fair, my father is a pretty stoic and unflappable but my mother is…not. They have been married for more than forty years, and they tell each other everything, so if one knows, the other knows almost immediately. As a non-twenty something adult, I have learned that it is often better to tell them somewhat serious, but non-life threatening, things after the situation has passed.

As I finish writing this, I hear the sound of distant police and ambulance sirens. I am grateful all I have to worry about is a bit of water.

Update – Pictures since my early morning explanation wasn’t great…

My patio is enclosed and the water inside was about eight inches. The water that made it’s way into my apartment (the side where my poor succulent sits) was about half an inch high.
This photo was taken from the foot bridge that crosses to the right of my patio; the bridge is ground level with the front of the building and connects it to the courtyard in the back. Leaves and mud from the courtyard prevented the water from draining and water pouring down from the side of the foot bridge added to the flood.