It's been one week since I was sitting in the dark having just given up bailing my sump pump crock. It seems like it's been a week of hell. The last few nights after work have been non-stop hauling of the contents of my basement to the outside. Some armfuls have gone directly in the pile of trash at the curb and some go into my car and later donated to The Salvation Army store down the street and some are put into bins that are now lining my backyard. These photos were taken last night. I don't have the energy to take photos of tonight's results. My sons have been a huge help. THANK YOU PHIL AND JACK! I feel like the village that I live in is performing a miracle everyday (so far). I put out piles of stuff and the next day, it is gone. There are huge dumpsters in my neighborhood but how to get my stuff to the dumpsters? It hasn't changed much over the last week. After I make that turn onto my street after work, I feel like I'm right back to being a refugee of the big flood. It makes me cringe. And yet, I am grateful for being spared the terrible devastation that so many people suffered. I only feel a fraction of their pain. But it isn't easy to find cardboard boxes of photos and yearbooks that now need a few days in the hot sun to dry out.
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