Thursday, September 14, 2006


It began when I awoke at 5:30am to the sound of Sebastian coughing up a hairball in the middle of the bed. Let me tell you - that's a Hell of a wake-up call and the morning did not improve.

I should stop for a moment to mention that it rained yesterday. All day. Non-stop. According to the news, we got three inches. According to my basement, it's more like 3 feet. Our former sump pump died after the last big rain (I've lost count of just how many "big rains" we've had) and while we purchased a new one, it hasn't been installed. And of course Marty is in New York. You know, it seems to rain in biblical proportions every time he travels to NY. I am pretty sure that means something. I just don't know what.

I will tell you that our basement isn't simply flooding from the volume of water being dumped from the skies. I know this because parts of the yard and the pasture were flooded as well. Not all. Just parts. The thought is we have a high water table and these torrential downpours cause water to rise up from the ground. It seems likely.

Anyways - back to the pump. I was forutnate that Carl called last night from the road and I mentioned we would need to borrow his portable pump and he offered to get it going when he got home this morning. So before I left for work today, dressed in my swanky new City Girl duds from Barney's, my feet pressed into my cold, still-damp-from-running-around-in-the-rain-yesterday driving shoes (including multiple trips through the soggy pasture to make sure that Elvis and Ann-Margaret hadn't drowned) I stepped outside to unlock the basement door so Carl could get in there while I was at the office. The water had risen so high it was well past the second step outside the door. I balanced myself gingerly on the top step and leaned in to unlock the padlock. Had I been in hip waders, it would have been one thing. But I wasn't. I was in a brand new Barney's outfit with my Louis Vuitton Alma dangling from my wrist, causing me to lean a little to the left which made the whole act of balancing on wet stone difficult.

It didn't help that I am fairly certain there was a dead fish floating in the stagnant water that had accumulated overnight outside the basement door. Where the fish came from I don't know - but I didn't have the time or energy to contemplate the situation. And isn't ironic that Marty's absence once again finds me with a flooded basement and a dead animal (of sorts)?

After managing to unlock the door I had to feed the goats who had been screaming already for several minutes. Normally I have a small Tupperware dish with me and I just scoop some feed, cross the yard to the pasture, feed them and then head straight to the car parked in the garage, keeping the Tupperware with me. But I forgot the container and didn't want to deal with going inside, turning off the alarm, finding the container and resetting the alarm. So I scooped some feed, crossed the cold wet yard, manuevered the gate open (Louis Vuitton still dangling from the wrist giving me no use of my left hand), dropped the Goat Chow in a rain filled trough (no time to empty it out and I certainly did not want to risk Elvis and Ann-Maragret - who have become quite aggressive at feedings - putting their muddy hooves on my new black wool pencil skirt with the inverted box pleat), then back across the yard to put the scoop away with the feed and then back across the yard again to the garage. Of course, every step in the wet, wet grass sent me into paroxysms of panic that mud would splatter onto my new clothes not to mention that my feet were so cold in the damp Tods.

And all of this before sunrise.

I must have been quite the sight trying to take care of my Country Girl life in my City Girl uniform. Still I eventually hoisted myself into the pick-up (not easy to do in a pencil skirt) and got on the road.

The highlight of my morning? As I passed by the Chuckwagon I saw tonight's dinner special advertised: Lasaguna.

That's not a typo. That's just so country I'll kiss your...