For once, I have an excuse for the looonnng gap of posts. Last weekend I was set to write about the pageantry of the Kentuc.ky Der.by, the wonders of Der.by pie, my experience at the drive-through betting window, and accosting Joh.n Calapar.i with my fellow Irish Dancers at a Derby Eve party.
Then, after all the hoopla had died down, I walked into our downstairs bathroom to find a strange puddle of water on the floor. For the past two days, Kentucky (like Tennessee) had gotten pelted/socked/soaked with non-stop rain. The geniuses who designed our particular city linked the storm water to the sewage drains. So as the rain continued, the puddle grew in our bathroom. A fellow SHE member and good friend brought her husband and various tools to help my husband. Basically, 12 hours later, raw sewage had seeped into our bathroom and the adjacent room. Our friends and my hubby worked so hard; I had to keep away from the smell due to the pregnancy and felt quite helpless.
So another "fruit" of my infertility experience? Getting to meet J. in the SHE group. She moved one street behind us and saw my frantic (ok, ranting) status on Facebook and immediately came to help. She and her husband literally saved the rest of the rooms from the sewage, as my hubby couldn't have lasted the entire time himself. When the city didn't show up until 11pm to help, J and her husband were an answer to prayer.
The city had the audacity to reprimand my husband for removing the sewage-soaked carpet, as now they had no stains to measure. He reminded them that keeping a sewage stained carpet around a pregnant wife wasn't sanitary (!). Let's just say that the city's lack of help and response prompted us to contact our city councilman.
Here's what the aftermath of our ordeal looks like. Yes, that is really our bathroom toilet on the ground, lying amid other items that got soaked:
I wish I was back in Tampa. We went there for our goddaughter's baptism a few weeks ago.
More news about progesterone, the double miracle of 2 bloggers, etc. coming soon!