Aftermath

The carpet went into the apartment yesterday afternoon. After work I started moving furniture back into the kitchen and living room. Nothing in the kitchen was damaged, but there's a big space left in the living room where the couch, armchair and coffee table used to live. I'll bring a table and armchair from the office to make more room there, and move the TV from the bedroom.

I still went back to Sylvie and Sarah's to sleep last night. After spending a week enjoying good company of my parents and friends, I am suddenly unenthused about returning to the solitude of my apartment. Or maybe I'm just deterred about how much work needs to be done to make the place liveable again.

Some of the cookbooks that got damp are still useful. Books with lots of glossy pictures didn't fare so well. Several of my favourite gardening books were destroyed. On the other hand, I have room for new books, for the first time in years.

The kitchen, living room and hall look pretty good after the restoration. The rooms that weren't damaged—office, bedroom and bathroom—which served as a dump for books, furniture and random junk, will take longer to recover. This doesn't look much different from normal, if one forgets I had actually tidied my office just before this happened.

Three books

Just now through Amazon I ordered slightly used copies of what I consider the three most valuable books destroyed by last week's deluge.

Nature's Healing Arts: From Folk Medicine to Modern Drugs, by Lonnelle Aikman. This 1977 National Geographic book was one in a series Dad's parents gave me for Christmas over the years. I've blogged about this book before. It influenced my mind more than any non-fiction book I read in my teens, awakening a fascination with the lore of plants.

Wild Mammals of North America: Biology, Management and Economics, edited by Joseph A. Chapman and George A. Feldhamer. This huge textbook contains exhaustive details of the natural history of mammals as supported by scientific research. I refer to it frequently. I must have paid more than $200 for the original, but the used one with shipping and taxes cost about $60.

Glorious Gardens: A Portfolio of Ideas for Planting and Design, commentary by Francesca Greenoak. Eye candy I simply don't want to live without.

These are a fair cross-section of what was lost. A few cookbooks were destroyed, but mostly they were higher on the gourmet spectrum than I have been interested in cooking lately. I've recorded the titles, in case I change my mind later. I considered buying a bread machine cookbook, because I had purchased a new machine just before the disaster, but enough recipes can be found online to keep me busy for months.

I have just enough money left over from the February rent (which I didn't have to pay) to cover these.