There’s a certain feeling I get right in the pit of my stomach when summer comes around. The closest feeling I can ascribe it to is excitement, but not for anything in particular. Maybe it’s just excitement for all the potential these long summer days have.
Summer hasn’t hit us just yet, but we’re still getting plenty of summer weather. It’s hot and humid and there’s wet stuff that falls from the sky.
As much as I love summer, however, I can’t bring myself to feel the same about the rain. I used to enjoy the occasional shower quite a bit and the nostalgia for cancelled plans and an excuse to stay indoors. But then my apartment flooded.
I had just moved to Texoma and was still trying to get to know my community and new surroundings. I woke up on a Monday morning with the day off and registered that it was raining outside. I didn’t realize until shortly afterwards, however, that the sound of rain was coming from the inside.
Bursting out of my room, I discovered to my horror that parts of my ceiling were drooped low and leaking streams of water into my kitchen and living room. I felt like I was on the “Titanic.”
Stupidly, (let’s remember I wasn’t fully awake yet) the first thing I did was try to get some towels to mop up the mess. Then somewhere in my shocked and sleep-addled mind it occurred to me that I should get something to catch the water in besides towels. Unfortunately, a recent college graduate doesn’t have much in the way of kitchen supplies, so once I ran out of pots and pans and more leaks kept springing up, I had to resort to cups and cereal bowls.
It was traumatic. Maintenance didn’t show up until about an hour after I called them. When the little place I’d been calling my home for just over a month failed at doing its job of sheltering me, I was really at a loss for what to do.
Fortunately I did have some friends I could call at 9:30 on a Monday morning and stay with them while maintenance did their thing in my apartment. We watched TV and played with their new puppy, and later that night we played Ultimate Frisbee, so the day wasn’t a total loss.
The source of the leaks, it turned out, wasn’t from the rain at all but instead was from the pipes busting in the apartment above me. These things happen, apparently.
There were some long-term repercussions from this great flood, however. All the moisture made my apartment ridiculously humid and wood surfaces developed mold. It was awful.
I don’t live there anymore and don’t have to deal with these situations, but the potential for any floods still leaves me cringing. When the thunder comes rolling in, I run to check on my windows and make sure they’re closed and properly sealed. It’s interesting because as a child I was afraid of storms because they’re loud and dark. As an adult, I’m still scared of storms, but for an entirely different reason.
I guess that’s just part of being an adult.
Miranda Wilcox is the managing editor of the Anna-Melissa Tribune, the Prosper Press and the Van Alstyne Leader. Email her at email@example.com.