Arriving home to hear what sounded like Niagara Falls in my basement, I cautiously peeked down my basement steps to see water gushing from the entire ceiling as far as my eyes could see, filling the floor with ankle deep water. It turns out my frozen pipes had burst due to the polar vortex. Polarizing and paralyzing, like Trump, both are equally terrorizing.
Now, seven days later, nothing remains in my recreation room, bedroom, bath, and laundry room but piles of wet junk and barely recognizable furniture. I was stunned! This cannot be in the place I call home.
One expects floods along the coasts, raging fires in huge forests, tornados inland in season but all my years in the twin cities, I’d never even heard of a Polar Vortex. We’re told another polar vortex is heading our way. My home’s fate is now to be determined by plumbers, rapid restoration companies, insurance men and professional abatement companies to remove asbestos, broken tile, carcinogenic materials, then rebuild walls, replace floors and make it ‘all like new’.
Like Trump demands his ‘Wall’, I certainly want at least what I had. Not having his wall and me not having basement access sucks out one’s life and pushes everything else into the background.
Yet I would not consider blaming others for the fate that now overwhelms me. I can just hear my best friend saying, “Aren’t you glad you’re all grown up now and can handle such a crisis like a ‘grown-up girl’?”
Perhaps Trump should seek such advice from Nancy.