The Great Aquarium of Autumn

According to the weather service, we are in for a wet, cool Autumn. Our usually sunny town has decided to try on a new personality—one that is grey, gloomy, and “cloudy with a chance of thundershowers.”

I’ve mentioned before that it feels like I’m living in London, but this week, I’m convinced I’ve actually moved there. The lack of sunshine is doing something to my head; it feels like my brain is slowly being clogged with damp wool.

The schedule for the week was simple: Monday: Rain. Tuesday: Rain. Wednesday: Rain. Thursday: Rain. Friday: Rain. And the weekend is not looking great either.

Everything is wet. Everything is muddy. The roads have transformed into beautiful, temporary rivers. It’s been a blast.

The Mop and the Tsunami

On Monday, I tried to be productive. I did the laundry, hung it out, and immediately had to sprint to take it down as the clouds broke. And hung them all over the house to dry. On Tuesday, I fetched my son from school and arrived home looking like I’d just taken a fully-clothed shower; luckily, I was wearing flip-flops because I would have ruined any closed shoes. By Wednesday, the local roads were completely underwater, closing until the sewer system could finally gulp down the excess.

But Thursday was when the real fun started.

I decided it was a good time to mop the floors. I was in a groove. I tidied the bedrooms and the bathrooms, swept, and mopped until they were sparkling. I moved toward the living room and kitchen, but I never actually got to the floor-washing stage.

Why? Because my office decided to become an aquarium.

This room used to be the porch before we closed it off to create my workspace. It had leaked once before, but the roof was supposed to be sealed and solid. Which happened after the first small flood. Apparently, the sky had other ideas.

My husband and I rushed in, moving furniture at record speed as the water level rose. My “glass box” was filling up fast; the only thing missing was the fish. We stood there, helpless, watching it fill until the shower finally stopped. My only thought was: How on earth do I get this out?

The Flip-Flop Sabotage

I messaged the janitor to send the gardener to check the gutters. The back of the house was so stuffed with leaves and dirt it looked like a Thanksgiving turkey about to burst.

The gardener arrived with his ladder and tools. He cleared the main house, but when he reached the office gutter, he pulled out the culprits: a bunch of leaves, a single flip-flop and a tennis ball.

They weren’t ours. They belonged to the neighbors. I suddenly remembered seeing the neighbor’s boy throwing his shoes into the air months ago, and that rhythmic thud, thud, thud of a tennis ball against the wall that used to drive me crazy.

Now I know why the sound stopped. Some higher force—or perhaps a very tired guardian angel—decided to make that ball go missing in the most inconvenient place possible.

Higher Ground and Hidden Whites

Once the gutters were clear, I started the rescue mission. I used a rubber broom to push the water over the sliding door rail. My arms screamed at me, but five minutes later, five centimeters of water had vanished. Then came the mop. Mop, wring, repeat. Mop, wring, repeat.

Ten minutes later, the floor was damp and clean. A breeze blew through, and things started looking normal again. I moved my setup to “higher ground” (as the Mayor referred to it) just to be safe while I finished my work.

But there was a silver lining to the havoc. I had been avoiding washing my office curtains for months. It felt like too much work, too much time, so I just kept putting it off. Nature, however, decided to force my hand.

Since they were already splashed with dust and rainwater, I finally threw them in the wash on Friday morning. To my genuine shock, I realized they are actually white. I had spent the last few months thinking they were beige.

I wiped the windows, mopped the floor one last time, and moved back in. All is well that ends well.

The Point of the Storm

So, have I learned a lesson? Yes. Don’t avoid the small chores, because if you don’t wash the curtains, the curtain gods will eventually find a way to do it for you—usually involving a neighbor’s shoe and a flooded office.

We aim for a perfectly managed life, but sometimes we need a little chaos to show us the true color of our curtains.

The “higher ground” is nice, but there’s something special about the aquarium once the water is gone. I can see everything from here. Birds outside, the weather changing, sunshine to rain to clear skies and rainbows. I have seen the sunrise and sunset in the most beautiful colours from this space. Even the moon and stars, smiling brightly in the dark night skies. Memories of the rabbits, the dogs, and my son laughing and running outside.