Almost a year ago, I posted about dreading taking on this task. When we took a photo of this closet in the middle bedroom after the flood water was out of the house, it didn’t seem so bad.
Ha. That door has been replaced. That floor was replaced. The lower walls of the closet had to be replaced and repainted, along with all the woodwork in and around the closet and that entire room. That Dyson was dead thanks to water damage. And that’s where the bag with all my Magnetic Poetry stuff was–and it had water in it. A month after the flood, as referenced in the above linked post, I knew I was going to have to tackle cleaning it, but I just didn’t have the energy to do that in light of all the other things I was doing day in and day out.
The bag got stuck on a lower bookshelf in the library, where I had to see it every day and know I wasn’t doing anything to fix it.
You can see it in this picture behind Jack, taunting me.
A few weeks ago, I bought some plastic containers so when I did take on the job, I’d be able to organize. Those containers were then stuck in the middle bedroom where everything goes to be out of sight and wait for the house to be finished so it can be moved to its eventual destination.
I decided today was the day.
First, opening that bag, being confronted by the odor, and figuring out what could be saved and what was lost.
Anything that had any kind of paper was not salvageable. Even if it looks okay in the below pictures, it was stuck together, misshapen, and it smelled. So goodbye entertaining and original boxes.
Magnetic Poetry: The Game was the worst. The plastic inset had protected its metal container, but the paper stuff inside was still wet and covered in mildew. It was completely disgusting.
Cleaned and saved:
This little container had some rust, but I cleaned it and all its words, dropped a couple of breath mints in with the words, and I hope it’ll be okay.
Most of the words had long been divided into multiple plastic containers. Some of those never took water and were okay. Some had to be thrown away. I lost a whole set of gay-themed magnetic words I bought in San Francisco in 1998. That set is no longer manufactured, and I’ll miss it and some of the words unique to its era.
All of the surviving Magnetic Poetry words were separated and given baths in my kitchen sink. Hundreds and hundreds of words, a box at a time, were cleaned and dried and put into new containers. This took all day long as I worked on it while I was also doing my rescue job. Whenever there was a work lull, I went back to the kitchen. Lynne was here cooking a pork roast in the crock pot. She cleaned the house while I was doing all this other stuff, cooked our dinner, ushered dogs in and out all day, and loaded the dishwasher after dinner. It was a rainy, humid day, so apparently even housework was better than trying to do anything outside. I’m eternally in her debt for taking over the care of the Hall and the Hounds for the day.
Too bad I didn’t take photos of all those words laid out in the sink or drying on towels. Photography wasn’t part of the cleaning routine. By the end of the day, this was everything that was safe, all cleaned and dry.
What I couldn’t save were the personalized sets of magnetic words that were made for me by Marika (Twilight-themed) and Rob E (Becky-themed). The paper on those magnetic sheets was ruined by water. I’d also been given a colorful set of magnetic words by our friend John that an author signing at Murder By The Book had handed out at her event. Those are the ones in the third photo above, stuck to my metal box. That box… Well, I’ve cleaned it, but it looks pretty bad, and I haven’t put any of the word collections inside it. It may remain just a decorative reminder of the day Harvey tried to drown all the poetry.
As if…
This is my message to everyone struggling after Hurricane Florence. I deeply hope that you get the kind of help that was given to Texas and Texans. I wish that same level of help had been given to Puerto Rico after Hurricane Maria. (That is not to disparage the people and organizations who are helping there and have been for a year. You are an inspiration and a gift.)
I wish all the survivors and rescuers, human and animal, the best from the bottom of my heart.
Like love, like hope, like help, as with all art, there will always be poetry.
