So, the other shoe dropped today. And it must have fallen from way up high, for the crater it made. I had been afraid to believe how good our luck was, when the cleanup crew was so wonderful, and our insurance policy was so comprehensive. I was right to have reservations. It's great to have all the flooring replaced, and to lose the hideous countertop in my younger daughter's condo (I finally got a photo to show) because the base cabinets have to come out. It's super lucky that the kitchen flooring is covered in my older girl's place because it lit the moisture meter up like a Christmas tree while my brother and I watched it today. But it sucks to learn that with the kitchens and bathrooms removed (or even just one of them), the places become legally uninhabitable, and now the kids have to find alternate lodging for three to six months. Let me expand on that: the kids and their assembled six cats and one dog have to find a short-term rental in a disaster area where many of the short-term rentals have already been taken, and only the predatory landlords remain. And did I mention that my older daughter killed the engines in both her car and the beater truck her daddy stores in Boulder to take up in the mountains, over the course of the summer? So going into the nearby communities like Superior or Louisville becomes problematic. We lost the tenants in both units because of this disaster too. Both roommates have to find alternate situations as well. In short, this blows.
The restoration crew spent the entire day at the younger daughter's place, cutting out all the drywall along the bottom two feet, and all the baseboards, door moldings and doors have been removed. It is so weird to walk through there now. We laughed at how there is zero privacy in the bathroom now that you can see in from everywhere, especially from the spare bedroom closet. One of the men said it was like someone took the concept of public bathroom stalls to the extreme. We heard glass break a couple times while the crew was there, but no one ever came to us and said they knocked something over. When we inspected, we couldn't figure out what it might have been. I keep telling my daughter not to stress over the few furnishings and items she lost, compared to all the people two buildings over. One of them even had two pianos float away.
My brother and I caught the attention of the crew leader (who we would all love to take out for a thank-you drink), and asked her to moisture test our garage, so we could declare it dry and fill it all the way. We also had her double-check a few spots in the less-damaged unit, and I'm rather crushed by what she found. She has to send her people back in to take the spare bedroom wall, and while it's great she found so much water that the cheap vinyl in the kitchen will be replaced on insurance's dime, not ours, learning that the cabinets there were doomed just pulled the rug out from under me. I had been counting on one of the units being livable. Ever since then, I have been in shock.
I took my brother out for one last dinner, to a Mexican restaurant near the complex. He has promised me that he will be there to help the girls, and in his mind, he has already moved back to the front range. It's just a matter of getting all of his belongings out as well. As we were leaving, and he was once again marveling at the sight of the mountain view from our little valley, he pointed out the gorgeous sunset. It was a nice way to say goodbye for now, and a reminder that tomorrow will be a whole new day. I'll think about it all tomorrow.
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