Warning Received And Noted

I get notices via email from my home and auto insurance companies each month reminding me that they will be pulling $..... from my account of the x-teenth of the month. When it's just that, I give the account a quick check for checking balance, and myself a mental reminder to either shift funds or make sure not to spend them until afterwards, since those are the last large bills each month. No biggie.

When I get something else from them I pay attention. It might be a notice of rate increase, or even a request for current vehicle mileage just so they can check to see if I still qualify for the low distance discount. I always figure that even in my fuel efficient vehicle, when I put less than 10 gallons in the tank a month, I still qualify, even with our annual summer trip north.

Last week it was a notice of annual renewal, with accompanying documents to read, to be followed by actual paper ones IF I ignored their notice to just read the emailed form. Since my email makes me read attachments in about a size minus 1 font, I ignored that. Sure enough the readable paper version showed up a couple days ago.

Today, however, was a different kind of email altogether. It warned me to prepare my home for floods. It assumed I am somebody stupid enough not to realized that even if I'm NOT near a stream or river, that rain, melting snow from the back yard (why not the front? no explanation) or even ice off the roof could flood my home and cause damage. I needed to check out everything to avoid those problems.

What it didn't say but I assume was implied in their warning was my possible need to upgrade my coverage to cover flood damage. I also happen to know that flood insurance only covers you and is only available to buy if you are in a "likely to flood" area, better known as a flood zone. I never have carried it. Never qualified.

I could have used it at the last house, once. It was built just after state laws were changed to mandate an egress window, such-and-such sized, for the basement. My builder, we found out later, was battling the bottle more than maintaining construction standards, and had the back yard graded so that our egress from said window was made easier by having a nice wide swath of yard slope gently up from that window to meet the rest of the yard. Translation: A nice wide swath of the yard sloped down into the window, carrying the entire load of rain falling there right through the window into the basement. Of course, by the time that 10" rainfall occurred, the documents had been long signed and no monetary damages were obtainable. Thus started my many treks to a local compost pile with a shovel and tarp in the back of the hatchback, delivery via wheelbarrow to the back of the (fenced in) yard by the window, raising the ground level via concrete retaining wall blocks, until that couldn't happen again. Made a nice spot for hostas, tiger lilies, and a bazillion suddenly well-fed weeds, including a few trees I worked hard to kill off last summer. It kind of kills the point of an egress window when trees prevent its opening outward.

By the way, the hatchback survived nicely, even if the tires looked a little squished on a few of the drives home.

Now I am about two miles from a river here.  I know that because there is a sign announcing it every time I cross it on a bridge. The sign is the only reason I know that large open space is considered a river and not somebody's open dumping space, or to-be-developed-once-prices-get-high-enough land, or something. There are no cottonwood trees lining the banks to point out its path. There is no channel visible from any of the bridges while I'm driving on them, and not just because the car is a compact and the bridge walls are high enough to almost keep trucks from driving off them. There just isn't any water in the Agua Fria River, despite its claims, neither cold nor warm. There are homeless people encamped there, along with typical Arizona desert wildlife: birds, coyotes, rattlesnakes, brown recluse spiders, ants, bees, and the occasional javelina, none of which apparently discourage the homeless population from seeking the shade under one of the overhead bridges. They do tend to sleep on high ground there, though I suspect it's because of the shorter distance for them that way to local streets and businesses rather than fear of being swept away.

I have on a couple occasions actually seen water pooling in small areas of the backyard, I must admit. Mostly in very scattered spots, low enough to get the runoff from other scattered slightly higher spots. In a daylight downpour, it looks to get to be about an inch deep in the low places. My slab which the house is built on sits up about 2 - 5" above ground level. 

I think we're pretty safe here from spring flooding. 

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