Pulling in the driveway, outside looks good. Opening the garage door, tears start. Everything and I mean everything is piled up, wet funky smells and fans. The sound of the fans it is awful. Walking into the house, I thought to myself, why me, why us, what did I do to deserve this. I work, John works, we are good people maybe eccentric and unclassy but this is it everything is wet. Our clothes are thrown everywhere, my entire life's collections of fabrics, yarns and papers wet damaged. Michael shows up later to help us carry some more furniture out. I try and stay positive.
Sleeping with a jet engine is horrifying. We close ourselves off into the other part of the house ignoring the fans for now. We have lived on restaurant food and take out for almost a week. I want my house back. How can I turn back time? This must be it everything happens for reason, God just write it on the walls for me cuz I still don't get it. Watching the Katrina victims on TV was enough for me to last a lifetime, think Alli I was only a little wet compared to them.
