I woke up today to the two most dreaded words in our marriage: "Oh, God.."
I was awake and halfway across the room before I could even ask, "What happened?"
The answer filled me with trepidation
"The apartment's flooded!"
By then I'd opened the bedroom door and stepped out onto a dry floor. Brain said: Dry Floor= not flooded apartment. Eyes said: bathroom flooded with at least an inch of water. Loving husband said, "Oh, God!"
So, I said to him, "give me every towel in the linen closet," and I went into the flood zone. I took a quick look at the toilet. Full to the brim but not currently running over, and *thankfully* nothing icky floating inside. I picked up the soaked rug and tossed it into the tub. Towels on the rack went to the floor, along with the other towels Loving husband handed me. I put the two small trash cans in the tub and grabbed the emergency suction device located conveniently next to the toilet. In the background loving husband is repeating themes upon "Oh, God" and "Why did this happen?"
The emergency suction device did its job, we worked to get all the towels into the washing machine (thank goodness that our apartment has one). Four loads of wash and a solid scrubbing of the floor later, and you'd never know it happened.
Except that one spot on the carpet that mysteriously got damp, and is still damp.
And except that we're both tired from having such a rude awakening at too early in the morning on a Sunday.