Flood

Sophia is scared of the bathtub filling up.  So one night as I started filling the tub, I closed the door behind me to mask the sound of the water rushing, while I got Sophia ready.  Two minutes later, with naked baby in hand, I found the door to the bathroom closed and locked.  We had no key.  I called Greg.  He suggested a paperclip or Allen wrench.  Neither worked.  I preceeded to jam anything and everything I could find – hair pins, screwdrivers, eating utensils – in the darn door lock with no avail; I even tried to jimmy the door open with my credit card.  Sheer panic set in as water started to rush out from under the bathroom door.  Sophia (and I) started to scream.  It was like a damn broke.  Water just kept gushing out.  When I was standing in over an inch of water in our carpeted hallway, I realized I had to get in there, and fast.  And so (after unsuccessfully trying to kick the door in with baby in hand) I took a hammer to the door. 

As I got into the bathroom and turned off the water, I frantically grabbed anything and everything in our house that would soak up water.  That's when the neighbors from below came up to say that water was rushing through their light fixture in their hallway.  BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!  At that moment their fire alarm went off.  BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!  BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!  And it continued like this until the HOA emergency clean-up crew arrived….two hours later. 

It gets worse. 

The emergency team set up what I can only explain as ET-esque quarantine area in our hall/bathroom, complete with the plastic room where it's necessary to zip and unzip your way in and out.  Inside the area we had 4 massive fans and heaters keeping the area at 95 degrees with 20% humidity to dry the carpet, under the carpet, and the walls.  It was like this in our house for not one, not two, but THREE days.  Our neighbors below us had a similar quarantine area, and so did the neighbors below them.  Yes, water went down not only the one, but two floors below us. 

I only wish I made this up.