A Monday story

I was sleeping soundly somewhere in between Sunday night and Monday morning when I awoke to the sound of rain falling on the roof. When I hear this I always assume that the rain will stop before its time to get up and take the dogs out. It did not. We survived the morning ritual in the rain, and it was off to work, one wet dog secured in her pen in the living room and the other minding her manners (and rolling on the carpet trying to dry off.)

Little did I know that by 10 or so I'd be taking this picture not far from the front door of the office:

This is where the story gets good. Upon seeing the devastation that was at our front door, I quickly gathered our office team in the conference room...as safety liaison, it's part of my job. This was the moment I'd been preparing myself for all my life. I quickly developed a game plan.

One person was sent to get the saws-all from the shop, another got the ladder. In under 5 minutes we had a hole cut in our office roof and everyone was safely on higher ground...everyone but the safety liaison. Yes, I was still below looking for spray paint to bring up to the roof so we could all write messages to the helicopters that would soon be circling looking for stranded victims. Sure, it was dangerous. Sure, I could have been hurt, but I didn't care. We needed paint to communicate to the National Guard rescue teams.

Alas, we only had one can of paint, but many different opinions on how best to communicate to the outside world. Some of the rejected messages included:

• "The Dallas Cowboys suck."
  
• "Take us to Wal-Mart before the other looters get all the good stuff." (Good point. Our Wal-Mart is on high ground and time is of the essence)
  
• "The Houston Texans suck"
  
• "Starving. Need beer and smokes."
• "There's no place like home, there's no place like home." (Did someone just come out of the closet?)
• "My governor is a Jewish cowboy. Kinky '08."
• "Hook 'Em!" (You're fired)
• "#8 rules, #24 is a puss"
  

As safety liaison, I was forced to combine all the suggestions into our unified collective desire. What did we finally spray paint on the roof? That is a great question...

"JUST DROP THE DEBIT CARDS. WE'LL SWIM TO THE TITTY BAR"

All caps was my last minute stroke of genius. The debit cards never came. The waters receded. We were all left on our own to go about our lives paying bills, showing up for work and buying our own consumables for the rest of our natural lives. Are lap dances considered a consumable?

12-14" of rain in one day and all I have to show for it are couple of sore knees from mopping up water as it seeped into our office.