Water Damage Horror Stories

December 21, 2015

Here is a fun story I found about a washing machine failure. Water damage sucks. We all know it. It's how you deal with it that makes the situation bearable or downright miserable. 



"Mindfulness practitioners will tell you that letting go of attachments is the key to happiness. In fact, they say, the things to which we become so stickily attached aren’t even substantial – and our belief that they are substantial is nothing more than mere illusion.
As the Dalai Lama puts it, “Most of our troubles are due to our passionate desire for and attachment to things that we misapprehend as enduring entities.”
I’m sure that’s true, but let me just say this: When your house falls apart, it’s very hard to accept the idea that said house is the epitome of insignificance and that its self-destruction is a random, meaningless, so-small-you-can’t-even-see-it blip in the cosmic mystery that is our lives.
So maybe my washing machine flooded and created major water damage to our second floor, as well as the ceiling of the first floor, in order to teach me to let go. But guess what, oh wise and clever washing machine? It’s not working. Instead, I’m learning only to grip on harder. I feel like I’m in a churning ocean, my nails digging into the rotting wood of a life boat, even as it absorbs water into its pulpy cells and disintegrates in my grasp.
My house is full of insane-making noise. Three gale-force fans are blowing air into the pulpy wood, while two robot-sized dehumidfiers suck and suck and suck water into plastic tubes, which snake into our sinks. It’s been four days now, and the wood isn’t drying out.
“I’m not pleased with the progress,” the serviceman told me yesterday. “It seems to be a different type of wood that was used in your ceiling than what I’m used to. Multi-layered.”
I shuddered, picturing my rotting lifeboat, feeling the saltwater fill my lungs.
He repositioned one of the humidifiers and left for his own dry home.
Meanwhile, I can’t do laundry – another thing to which I’m very attached.
“We can’t fix it until July 17th,” the representative for the washing machine company (which shall remain nameless for now) intoned into the phone.
“But this is your fault! There was a hole in the rubber seal! I’m under warranty! The machine’s not even a year old! I have three children! One of them is a baby! I can’t be without a washing machine!”
“We can’t fix it until July 17th.” He was so detached, the epitome of mindful bliss. I wanted to scream.
So what would the mindfulness people say? Do the customer service representatives of the world have the answer to happiness, with their detached, bored, uncaring voices, and their crappy jobs working for the Man who owns all the stuff and who doesn’t care one iota about them?
It seems like a little more attachment here would be the empathetic thing. The ethically correct thing.
But I don’t know. All I know is I have loads of laundry piling up, and a wet, pulpy house full of white noise, and I’m slowly mimicking my house by falling apart myself. It’s probably not a significant problem, but I’m not some monk on a mountain, meditating in the cool breeze and the quiet. I’m a mom with two kids and a toddler, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to live this way.
Anyone have a house horror story to share? Washing machines and toilets flooding? Black mold in the walls? Ovens left on over vacation?
How did you get through it?"


A big part of dealing with damage, weather it's water, storm or fire. Remember that Texas ReConstruction has been making dealing with home damage managable for over 50 years. 




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