So, it's been just over 2 weeks since the basement disaster that resulted in total voice loss. For the last few days, I've been able to sing just a little bit, but with the quality of voice I've got going on, all I can manage is some Melissa Etheridge songs. (If only I could have my whole vocal range AND this sexy rasp in my voice at the same time.)
I had planned to set up the gypsy tent on Saturday, but on Friday I got a text from one of my beloved teenagers, saying the basement was flooded. JOY.
When we arrived, we figured out that the reason it flooded was that a single pair of pants and a shirt was put in the washer, and that wonderful machine from Nineteen-Seventy-Something had bounced the drain hose right out of the wall, and drained onto the floor. And drained and drained.
Luckily, I had some masks from working during the week at Reflexology (while still fighting with a delightful cough) so I wore one in the basement on Saturday, while filling garbage bags with wet items.
The Universe just decided that it was TIME to gut the basement I guess. Who am I to argue?
So, there's still things for me to touch and consider and organize down there, but almost all of the floor got cleared. The Shapeshifter mopped hot vinegar in water onto the naked concrete floor, and we've been running a dehumidifier so much, that I'm sure the PUC is making evil genius tenty fingers in delight at what the bill is going to be at the end of the month...
But, clean basement.
And bitchin' rock n roll voice.