The carpet absorbed about 3-4 inches of water and I spent the next three days cleaning up the mess. Wet carpet is heavy. How heavy? Heavier than a car. Carnie Wilson heavy. Hold on for one more day if your knees don’t give out.
I called our insurance carrier, State Farm, to place a claim.
The whole thing played out in my head like this. Moments after placing the call, a very handsome, light-skinned / socially acceptable to the white-middle-class-community, black man arrives at our home. He tells us everything will be “okay”. We invite him in for some tea.
Patiently sitting on our sofa, legs almost touching, he listens as I retell the story of what it was like living through the horrors of a flooded basement. He nods in agreement while holding my hand. Barely able to move, I walk over to the fireplace and lift a picture off the mantel. It’s a picture of our family during happier times. He knows what I’m thinking, “Will life ever be the same?”
Our eyes connect four. Reaching into his sport coat pocket he pulls out a check for $150,000!!!
It has been three weeks and we still don’t have any money. The adjuster finally came last Wednesday.
I totally expected him to put up a fight and not pay for anything so I was all ready to beat the living crap out of said State Farm adjuster. Unfortunately, he was really nice and agreed that my estimates were reasonable and he would pay them. WTF.
I really need brain surgery because what is going on in my head is so far off from what happens in real life it isn’t even funny. Also, I need telepathic super powers. I'm pretty sure if my brain is stimulated in just the right spot I will be able to read minds and lift an X-Wing fighter.