Last Wednesday night we had an unexpected thunderstorm.
It was everything a summer storm should be: lightening, thunder, rain pounding on the windows. It was glorious.
On Friday my house began to smell like ass.
A few weeks prior, Aaron had gotten all crazy-productive and trimmed up some bushes in the front yard. Bushes that had over grown and fully blocked the basement windows from sunlight. Turns out, they also blocked them from rain.
So, the "office" in the basement completely flooded.
I put "office" in quotes because it's suppose to be the office but is really more a dumping ground for old magazines, miscellaneous papers, old baby clothes and all sorts of other crap.
On Saturday Aaron pulled out the completely-flooded, starting-to-mold rug (the major component in making the house smell like ass) and I began to do large loads of laundry with boiling hot water and bleach to salvage as much clothing as possible.
I spent the day yesterday filling two trash bags with trash, three bags full of stuff to donate and bag full of recyclable.
Of course, I had to go through every damn magazine that wasn't moldy and rip pages out of it to keep. For what, I haven't figured out yet.
And I'm keeping all my Martha's. I can't seem to get rid of those. Why is that?
So, the room is about a fourth of the way cleared out. A fourth. Oh my holy hell, a fourth.
I'm trying to make myself believe this fiasco is just what we needed to jump-start the reorganization of the basement. But seriously, why did it take the basement smelling like ass to get me to do it?