It's raining...

It's pouring. Both literally and figuratively. Northwest Iowa is experiencing a rare February event--a soft, winter rainstorm. It's lovely, actually. I couldn't be happier. This morning, as I dug my milk gallon out of a melting snowbank (yes, you read that right--more on that later), I admired the warm wetness and the sound of the birds in the trees. It feels like spring to me, but I know that the real thaw is still weeks (hopefully not months) away. Sigh. I'm not complaining; I'm just wishing that it was April.

But I said it's raining literally and figuratively. Remember I posted last week about our basement? Well, it's official: everything needs to go. We have a contractor coming tomorrow to rip up the laminate and sub-floor, as well as the entire bathroom. Oh, it's a mess. But it gets worse. On Saturday (when Aaron and I were taking a little break from a one-day conference that we were both participating in), we came home to find a pink puddle on the floor in front of our refrigerator. I figured it was just spilled juice from the boys, but when I opened the freezer to make sure everything was okay, a melty mudslide of popsicles, thawed berries, and oozing packages of wrapped meats slid out. Gross. We threw away more groceries than I care to tally, then checked and double-checked the refrigerator. It seemed okay. Well, a few hours later we came home to find the refrigerator tepid at best, and proceeded to junk more spoiled food. Right now I have essential items stuffed in a snowbank just outside of our back door. I feel like a pioneer woman trudging down the steps in my robe to dig my son's amoxicillin from its little snow-cave. As much as I love the rain, it isn't helping my outdoor refrigerator situation... Argh.

I'm not the type to over-spiritualize things, but I have to admit that I'm feeling a bit attacked these days. But for some incomprehensible reason, it's not getting me down. Usually I'm not so cheerful in the face of even the slightest inconvenience to my normal smooth-sailing routine. Hmmm. Makes me wonder what secret store of optimism my subconscious is feeding on and if I can bottle this happy-go-lucky-ness for later use. Maybe I could sell it and make enough to re-do our basement and replace our refrigerator. Any buyers? :) It could be my rainy day fund...