The Nightmare Before Christmas

It was mid-December when I finally decided to start packing up this apartment instead of putting up Christmas decorations. We were going to move the end of January and I didn't want to wait until the last minute. Ron's friend built a house and he was letting us take over his mobile home for next to nothing just as soon as he moved out of it. It was a 3-bedroom, 2-bath and it sure beat the $652.00 a month we were paying for this 2-bedroom apartment. My aging body needed all the time it could get so I decided to forego Christmas for a while instead of putting out a tree and decorations, and just get this place packed, instead. I reluctantly started collecting boxes from stores, seeing Christmas lights hanging brightly and beautifully on the residential homes around us with every trip I took. The more lights I saw, the more depressed I got knowing I was not going to celebrate Christmas this year with the rest of the world.

I stood in the living room looking at an undecorated apartment full of empty boxes as my mind began to drift away to a better time coming . . .
'I thought about having everything unpacked and put away in our new home by the end of January,' I thought, 'then we could celebrate Christmas. I won't put up a tree, but I'll make a feast, and we could exchange presents, and then in the morning we'll take off on a 3-day trip. Ron always has Saturday, Sunday and Monday off, so as long as we're back by late Monday it was feasible.' Then, to my dismay, I came back to reality. Without boughs of holly and no Christmas spirit, the crap slowly began to get packed.

It was Sunday, December 21st when the real fun began. I was awakened early that morning hearing Ron running around in a panic, cursing and yelling, "Cheryl! We're under water! We're flooded! Oh my God, what happened?" I jumped out of bed and by the time I reached the bedroom door, water was squirting between my toes. I stepped onto a flooded hallway and looked to see the front door wide open. Ron was outside with nothing on but his boxer shorts running around in a frenzy in the courtyard yelling, "We're flooded! We're under water!" I don't know what the purpose of that was for. I guess he figured that the pine trees, the cold weather, wet grass and piles of dog crap he was running through were going to give him the answer he so desperately needed. As quick as I could I walked through the apartment that was completely underwater and out the door to retrieve him. By the time I reached him, he had already drawn the attention of several neighbors who came out with coke and popcorn to see the show. Just then, our elderly neighbor above us stepped out and explained that her water heater broke several hours ago. "I called the manager quite a few times," she explained, "but never got a call back and the maintenance guy is out of town for the weekend."

After 3 hours of waiting for the manager to phone her, she finally decided to call the police but all they could do for her was shut her water off. What infuriated and confused me the most was that she let her heater gush water for a good three hours while she waited for the manager to call her back. Couldn't she have shut if off herself or even banged on a neighbor's door for help hours ago? But no! Shit-for-brains had to make everyone else's life around her, miserable. We had no renter's insurance or flood insurance so all we could do at that point was go inside and move our furniture to dryer ground and set our belongings on top of the couch, the bed and even in the tub. We put bowls and pots under the streams of water breaking through our ceiling. Nothing could be done about the water pouring down inside our walls and relieving itself underneath the baseboards and into our carpet and flooring. The ceiling began bulging in large areas and the paint and plaster was coming off in sheets. Our linoleum tiles were beginning to peel from its foundation and the kitchen counter tops were all under water. I unplugged the appliances except for the refrigerator and moved the microwave, can opener and toaster. The florescent light fixture in the kitchen was filling up with water and our ceiling fans resembled Niagara Falls. My solid wood dining table and chairs were soaked. Our entertainment center was pressed wood, so needless to say, it was absorbing the water. The bottom of it was falling apart and the whole thing began to lose its balance. We grabbed the TV and VCR off of it and moved them elsewhere. The list goes on and on. I knew this would be a Christmas I would remember for the rest of my pitiful life.

That afternoon the manager was contacted and the carpet cleaner came to extract the water. When he was done, he slid part of a drying machine under the carpet and padding that blew air with extreme pressure to dry it. The noise from this machine was horribly loud and we had to yell at each other to be heard. He said it had to run for at least two days before everything was dry. Then off he went to have a Merry Christmas. I mopped up the floors and began drying all the surfaces then took dirty sheets and towels and laid them all over the floors. I retired to the bedroom, closed the door to escape the noise from the machine, put on a movie, crawled in bed and pushed the world away.

The next day, December 22, I stayed in bed all day crying out my frustration and disappointment. When Ron got home from work, he asked the same stupid question most men ask when they don't know what else to say. . . . "What's the matter?" I slowly turned my head his way and when our eyes locked, I said in a low growl, "The best thing you can do is shut up and stay clear of me." I got up to fix him dinner and noticed that the sheets and towels on the floors were getting wetter. As a matter of fact, in some areas they were soaked. I pulled them back and pressed on the linoleum. Water squirted up between the tiles. I called Mark, the maintenance guy to look at it. Apparently, the vacancy next door to us got flooded too, but he never thought to check it out the other day. "Nothing I can do about it this late," he said. "Just keep throwing things down to soak up the water. I'll get the extractors out tomorrow to do the vacancy. You guys have a good evening and Merry Christmas." I let him out the door and thought, 'Well, screw you!'

I gave Ron his dinner and decided to check the towels lying in the hallway. I didn't realize while I was cooking, that the hallway was filling up with water as quick as it did. As soon as I stepped from the living room carpet onto the floor, I slipped and twisted my back. My foot came out from beneath me and slammed against the baseboard as I did a half-split and broke my toe. Between excruciating pain from my back and my throbbing broken toe, I slumped to the floor bursting into tears. Ron jumped up and ran over to grab me and asked, "Are you ok?" "No! I'm not ok! Nothing's ok!" He helped me to bed and I stayed under the covers and cried for several hours cursing the day I was born. Even after two sleeping pills, two Benedryl and several aspirin, I didn't fall asleep until 6 a.m. the next morning. Nothing took the back pain away.

I woke up about 1:00 that afternoon, December 23rd, and tried desperately to forget it was my birthday. My depression had reached its peak. In pain, I stumbled to the living room and looked around wondering what I had done to cause this to happen to me. I made my 12 cups of coffee and retired to bed, never finding a comfortable position. I would change the channel each time a commercial came on because I couldn't bear to see those happy faces buying all those things companies were pushing to sell and celebrating the happiest of holidays. 'Screw them all,' I thought.

December 24th, Christmas Eve. Ron was home and helped me the best he could. The extractors came to get the machine, then Ron put the furniture back in place. After that, we spent the day in bed watching movies. Off and on, my mind drifted to better times . . .'I couldn't wait to move from here. The mobile home will be much larger and financially we'll be better off. Things will change with lots of hard work and perseverance and it will get better,' I thought to myself. But I was still angry, in pain and emotionally drained. I wanted to know why God allowed so much to hit us all at once during what was supposed to be a time that brought joy and peace. A time of giving and sharing, a time for bringing people together to remember the old year and welcome in the new. I began to focus on others for a moment. Several of my friends just lost close family members and so many people seemed to be having a more difficult time than usual this holiday season. 'The economy sucks! Nobody can help it,' I thought.' Why can't God, in His mercy, allow just one stinkin' day of peace for everyone. No death, no losses, no sadness. . .just one friggin' day!'

Christmas Eve passed by uneventful and the evening brought in an unusual quiet and stillness. Ron realized it was just a few minutes after midnight. "Merry Christmas," he said, then closed his eyes to sleep. "Merry Christmas," I replied. (and screw you, too!)

© Copyright Cheryl Taul
December-2003