Four years ago in May, a series of storms swept through the midwest.
It rained and poured for hours. We lost power, and subsequently our sump pump. We had only been homeowners for seven months, so we still lacked things like a generator.
Our finished basement (with beautiful carpet) quickly started filling up with water.
Scott, his dad, our good friend Cook and I carried pail after pail of water out of the basement, up the stairs and poured it down the driveway, hopeful that we could minimize the damage.
But the next morning, with a few hours rest and a clearer head, we saw the writing on the wall. Our finished basement would no longer be so finished.
This was a few weeks before our wedding. A few weeks before my enormous family was supposed to stay with us. Every bedroom, sofa, space of floor was assigned to someone. Who wants to sleep/walk on bare concrete in a basement that vaguely smells of mildew?
It also should be noted, that this was a few weeks before we were emptying our bank account to pay for flowers, cakes, rental fees, honeymoon, etc. You know, wedding things.
The panic started to set in when we tried to find the time, energy and money to take on this project.
So, instead, we took a deep breath, and decided it could wait.
My family would understand.
My honeymoon would be grateful.
We'll just wait a few months.
Fast forward a bit … and for my 29th birthday, Scott surprises me with a gift nearly four years in the making.
This is the first in a three-part series following our shock-and-awe basement remodel.