The Telltale Sump Pump

So it rained in Illinois. Nothing to compare with the hurricanes, mind you, or even the rain that the Chicago area got, but rain all the same. A consequence of the rain is that our basement flooded. The good news is that the house we're renting has a sump pump, so it only flooded a little. The bad news is that it's been pumping its little heart out since yesterday morning.

Have you ever lived with a sump pump before? I don't think I have. In all honesty, I didn't even know what exactly a sump pump did until we moved here. It turns out that what it does is pump. All. Day. Long. Squish-chug. Squish-chug. It's like a really loud, really persistent washing machine. Squish-chug. The exact same rhythm. Over and over and over again. And in a relatively small one-floor house, there is no escaping its noise.

At various times today I have found myself tapping my leg, petting the dog, and washing myself in the shower to the rhythm of the sump pump. When I was contemplating the writing of this, I checked my pulse, half-convinced that it would be beating in time to the rhythm of the sump pump. If the water doesn't go away, I will soon be in a padded room, rocking and twitching to the rhythm of the sump pump.

That may be a possibility. Along with the fact that it's still drizzling occasionally, the problem is that our basement water is seepage from the ground being so saturated. When the sump pump pumps, the water goes out through a long pipe back into our yard, where it goes back into the ground, and eventually back toward the house and through the wall, starting the cycle again. Over and over and over again. Squish-chug.

I am sorry to sound ungrateful, particularly if you're dealing with rain or, heaven forbid, hurricane aftermath right now. I know that the sump pump noise is a small price to avoid flood damage. I'm just wondering if we should check our renter's insurance policy to see if it covers emotional damage.