My basement flooded.
Living in downtown Jersey City, you realize that you are at sea-level, and you understand that the city for some reason hasn’t updated most of its sewer system since Franklin Pierce was president, but for some reason, you think over and over again that your basement won’t flood. You lie to yourself.
I believe the lie myself though every year, my basement floods, despite the precautionary measures I take: like installing a sump pump, and drains, and a French drain (which worked somewhat well, until my neighbor put in a patio, which worked even better.). Mysteriously, none of my improvements last for long. The sump pump stopped operating, the drains seemed to hold more water in than release water out, the French drain was dug up by my neighbor during construction (bad), but was replaced by his patio (much, much better!). In fact my current flood could have been prevented if my sump pump was operating, but it wasn’t. So last Saturday, my brother, his cat, and my mother arrived at my house just in time to see an 8-inch pool of water accumulate in my basement. I was distraught, and so we ordered Saigon Cafe (which made me feel slightly better).
And by the next morning my basement had drained. I enlisted my roommate to help me clean up a bit, and the next day my neighbor Chuck (called to duty by photographer Matt) came by, relit the pilot in my hot water heater, and replaced a $10 corroded part in my sump pump. So the household celebrated conquering the flood by dining on a Cornish hen spiced with smoked Spanish paprika, cumin seeds, cilantro, and fennel seeds over couscous, and chopped vegetables. As we ate nothing seemed bleak anymore. But then again, that may be because the hen tasted as good as bacon.
