It may sound weird, but some of my fondest memories of “family bonding” growing up came from cleaning up small floods in the basement, either after a very heavy rain or if the drains backed up. This happened again a few days ago at my house, after my parents finished some unrelated plumbing fixes in the upstairs bathroom. Dad happened to go downstairs to get a tool or something, and came back up to tell Mom and I that there was water everywhere. Without any pause they immediately jumped into action with the shopvac and some rugs, and in a short time our team effort resulted in a nearly dry floor. The worst part: it was almost fun.
It may sound "weird-er", but I have the same memories: Saturday evenings with mops, rugs and my mom's ringer washing machine to squeeze out the water (no shop-vac in those days). Such adventures we have!
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