Really Really REALLY Pooped

Okay, I don't know if I told you all this, but the other evening I saw a wet spot outside the garage door. I figured something spilled inside, and since I was late for work, I'd deal with it when I got home.

Well, it was a REALLY rough day at work, and I opened the door from the house into the garage and saw . . . disaster. TOTAL disaster.

Apparently the water heater sprang a leak and drained into the garage, so that all of the boxes on the bottom level were soaked. When they got soaked, they gave out, and all of the boxes on top tipped over, falling everywhere into a total wreck.

Today I got to clear out the garage, repack what could be saved, pitch what couldn't, while the landlord fixed the water heater.

I mostly lost books. Because, of course I have a Gazillion books and they're the heaviest, so they were on the bottom level. Gone is my complete collection of Agatha Christie; all but 2 of my Simon Green books, several of my Dick Francis mysteries, almost all of my writing reference books, one entire file cabinet worth of writing research, all of the bound and unbound original draft manuscript pages, old disks (which is no huge loss because they won't work in any of the computers I have now anyway but which I always kept for proof of the original origination of the various series); One or two of my idea notebooks; all of the certificates for the various awards my son won throughout his school career. (The trophies survived though.) Going through it was depressing, frustrating, and exhausting. But there you go. It could've been much, MUCH worse. So I am grateful. And now things are re-boxed nicely, labeled, re-taped, and in much better shape. So it's probably for the best. But I am going to take a LONG hot bath, (now that the water heater is working again) and go to bed.

G'night.


Cie