The Aftermath of Hurricane Summer

It's amazing how we all turn into a bunch of slobs during the summer time. For the first few weeks, at least, I try to keep the mess under control, begging my kids to clean up after themselves at the end of each day. But by the end, I've completely given up. So for the past few weeks, while my kids are being enlightened at school, I've been busy digging out. If my life were a news report, it would read something like this:


Reporting to you live from news channel 8, this is (insert name here) with a special update.

Yesterday marked the two-week anniversary of the end of Hurricane Summer. For those of you just joining us, the ten-week long Hurricane Summer blew through the homes of many recently, leaving massive destruction in its wake. The unprecedented length of Hurricane Summer has made it one of the most destructive, though surprisingly non-deadly, hurricanes in history. Cleanup efforts are well underway, but are expected to take anywhere from three weeks to two months.

We are reporting to you live from one such home, where residents are reeling from the shock as they struggle to recover. In this home, over 5000 Legos have been rescued so far, discovered in an alarming variety of hiding places after the hurricane stormed through. Because they were spread so far, many have not yet been recovered. The number of Legos reported missing is rising at an alarming rate. The following website has been established to assist residents who are still searching for a beloved Lego: richardslegorecovery.com. Rumors have surfaced that the Legos are somehow secretly reproducing at night while residents slumber, but nothing has been confirmed.

An astounding number of abandoned vehicles has been reported as well. Many are in surprisingly good condition, despite the abuse they endured during the storm. If you are in need of a new car (or Thomas Train), they are first come first served. (Please note that all available cars and trains are much smaller than the average family car. They will fit in the palm of your hand.)

A record number of tiny pieces of paper have been found after a scissor-like, gale-force wind blew through the area with a vengeance. At first glance, residents mistook the tiny paper clippings for snowflakes.

Several unidentified food items have been found ground into carpets and couches throughout the house. Some smell like peanut butter. Other patches are covered in an orange dusting. We can surmise that countless tiny goldfish lost their lives over the course of this storm. Additionally, it appears that this particular hurricane had an affinity for chewing gum. Sticky mounds in a plethora of colors have been located on and under the couches, mashed into the carpet, wedged between floorboards, and perched decoratively on bookshelves and dressers.

And, as always in these kinds of disasters, the amount of unidentified debris scattered throughout the house is massive. Toys, snacks, shoes, socks, blankets, electronic gadgets, books, markers, clothes, crayons, utensils, cups, snack bowls, goggles, pillows, etc. The items sit, scattered haphazardly throughout the house, waiting for their owners to claim them. The debris is currently making travel throughout the region exceedingly difficult. Caution is therefore advised if travel is attempted, though residents should consider avoiding it for as long as possible. If travel is unavoidable, expect major delays.

Residents of the Richards' home, and others in the affected area, are making the best of their situation. As governor Mom oversees cleanup efforts, you can expect to catch her consuming excessive amounts of chocolate. Her aids are telling us she is unlikely to consider running for a second term.