Ok, so the flood waters have receded...we're just within inches of havin a bit of beach back. The main road is completely open, as of today. We're runnin on our own water pump and we have hot water back. We didn't have anything that could be considered "major" damage to the house or our possessions. Da Zigster spent most of the weekend cleanin up/throwin away the few things that were soaked in the nasty water. And it rained this morning, washin away most of the gray, dried sludge that was stuck on...well...everything.
The only inconvenience left is that we still hafta boil any water we use for drinkin, as the well might be contaminated. I'll do the test today and mail it in, but it can take 10 days to get the results.
In other words, in less than two weeks, things are pretty much back to normal here at the River Rat Retreat.
So why are the Zigster and I still in a funk? Both of us are complainin if it. Neither of us feels really good. We're both tired and just...draggy. Not that either of us are whatcha might call balls of fire to begin with, but now...we're more like...a match lit on a windy day, maybe.
Last night, he laughingly suggested that maybe we might have PTSD..post-traumatic stress disorder. I laughed, too. But then I got to thinkin maybe he's right.
Granted, our situation was really nothing compared to somethin like...oh...the hurricaine victims, fer example. Or what our brave soldiers are going through in the Middle East. And I feel a little ashamed about even comparin those situations. But, for us, I guess it was stressful. Way more stress than we're used to, anyway.
And I guess stress is subjective, isn't it? What might stress one person out is merely routine for another.
I didn't feel that stressed while it was happening. Well, except for that Thursday, when I thought we might be in big trouble. In fact, for most of the time, I felt like it was a bit of an adventure.
But I guess havin your home...the place that you love...the place where you feel safe and secure...the place where so much of you is...threatened is stressful.
I'll tell ya, though. I'll be glad when this little trip to Funkytown is over.