Alright, so my house got flooded last month, and I’m still kinda shook about it. Like, a flooded house in my quiet Ohio suburb? For real? I’m sitting here on my squeaky porch swing, coffee gone cold, staring at my basement steps that still smell like damp socks. The creek behind my place went wild, and next thing I know, my basement’s an indoor pool. Here’s my sloppy, real-as-hell take on what you need to do in the first 24 hours of a flooded house, from someone who messed it up big time at first. I’m no expert, just a guy who learned the hard way.
When Your House Gets Flooded, It’s Total Chaos
Your place is a waterlogged mess. Carpets squishing, furniture smelling like a swamp, and you’re probably losing your mind. I was. I stood in my basement, water up to my shins, staring at my kid’s old toy box floating like a sad raft, thinking, “Well, this is it, everything’s gone.” But real talk? The first 24 hours of a flooded house are huge. Water damage spreads like wildfire, mold’s a sneaky jerk, and every second you waste could wreck more of your stuff.
- Water’s a creep. It’s not just sitting there—it’s sneaking into walls, under floors, into your old photo albums.
- Mold doesn’t chill. It can start growing in like a day, and trust me, that smell is gross.
- You can save stuff. Move fast, and you might rescue more than you think—like clothes, pics, even that weird lamp you secretly love.
Step 1: Don’t Freak Out (Even Though I Did)
When your house is flooded, your brain’s screaming, “Everything’s trashed!” Mine was. I was splashing through my basement, tripping over a soggy dog toy, convinced my whole life was underwater. Newsflash: It wasn’t. Take a deep breath, maybe chug some coffee (or, like, whatever’s in your fridge, no shade), and get your head in the game. Panicking wastes time, and time’s not your buddy in a waterlogged home.
What I wish I’d done right off the bat:
- Kill the power. If water’s near outlets, flip the main breaker. I didn’t at first, and I’m lucky I didn’t electrocute myself unplugging a fan. Check FEMA’s flood safety page for more.
- Call insurance. Like, now. I waited a day, thinking I’d be Mr. Fix-It, then realized my policy covered flood cleanup. Big oops.
- Take pics. Snap photos of all the flood damage. My blurry iPhone shots were a lifesaver for my insurance claim, even if they looked like trash.
Step 2: Get the Water Outta Your Flooded House, Like, Yesterday
Water in your house is like that annoying friend who crashes on your couch forever—kick it out fast. I rented a shop vac from Home Depot (tip: call ahead, ‘cause everyone’s scrambling for ‘em). I was sucking up water like a maniac, sweating, cursing, and accidentally vacuumed up a sock. It was a hot mess, but it got the job done.
How to tackle flood cleanup:
- Pump or vacuum. Get a pump for deep water or a shop vac for shallower stuff. Red Cross has a guide with solid gear tips.
- Move stuff. Drag furniture to a dry spot. I hauled my couch to the garage, then realized it was already molding. My bad.
- Air it out. Crack windows to dry your waterlogged home. I did, even though it was humid as all get-out outside.
My Biggest Flooded House Screw-Up
Gotta be honest here. I thought I could “handle” my flooded house and didn’t call a pro for two days. Dumbest move ever. By day three, my basement smelled like a wet dog’s nightmare, and I found mold creeping up the drywall. I was standing there in my soggy flip-flops, feeling like an idiot, realizing I’d made it worse. Don’t do what I did. If the flood damage is bad, call a water damage cleanup crew ASAP. Sites like Servpro can hook you up with local pros.
Step 3: Save What You Can From Your Waterlogged Home
This part’s rough. I was digging through my flooded house, trying to save my kid’s old drawings, and I straight-up cried when some turned to mush. Like, I’m not a crier, but that hit hard. But you can save stuff if you hustle:
- Clothes: Shove ‘em in garbage bags to stop mold, then wash with vinegar. I saved most of my t-shirts this way, thank God.
- Photos/papers: Gently pull apart wet pages and lay ‘em flat. I used a hairdryer on low for some old letters—worked like magic.
- Furniture: Wipe wood down quick. My coffee table made it, but my cheap particleboard bookshelf? Total goner.
Step 4: Get Ready for the Long Haul of Flood Damage
By now, you’re wiped out, your flooded house is still a disaster, and you’re wondering if you’ll ever feel normal again. I was there, sitting on my porch with a soggy PB&J, staring at my waterlogged home, thinking, “This is my life now, huh?” The first 24 hours are just the start of flood cleanup.
- Check for mold. I missed a spot behind my washer, and it was nasty. EPA’s mold guide saved my butt.
- Keep snapping pics. More photos for insurance—they love that stuff. I forgot to keep shooting and regretted it.
- Ask for help. I was too stubborn, but when my neighbor brought over a dehumidifier, I could’ve hugged her.
Wrapping Up My Flooded House Disaster
Look, a flooded house sucks. It’s messy, it’s stressful, and it makes you feel like everything’s falling apart. I’m still finding random damp spots in my basement, and yeah, I get twitchy when it rains. But I saved more than I thought I could, and you can too. Move fast, don’t try to be a hero, and maybe keep a rubber duck around for moral support.
