Since Monday, January 26, 2026, life has looked completely different fr us.

A pipe burst and water ran through our townhome in the middle of the night. What followed was a crash course in displacement: coordinating insurance, timelines, vendors, and figuring out what could be saved while living out of an extended-stay hotel. Most of our belongings were packed out and moved, and we’ve had to make hard decisions about what stays in our life and what doesn’t.

One thing is very clear now: we’re living a simpler life—because we don’t have as much stuff, and because this experience changed what “enough” looks like.
 

The hardest moment wasn’t even the water itself. It was hearing from property management that the owner wants to take back possession of the home at the end of our lease. We genuinely loved that townhome. It checked off so many of the things we’d been hoping for, and we’re still grieving that loss.

At the same time, we were given a small piece of relief: the owner is offering to let us out of the lease and return our full deposit. In a situation where so much feels uncertain, that option has been a meaningful lifeline.

And in the middle of all of this, we’ve been trying to find a new place to live. We even found and applied to a home down the street, only to be asked for a $5,000 deposit and then basically ghosted. Every application fee, every message, every “maybe” has felt heavier when you’re already displaced.

On top of housing and the flood aftermath, we’re also juggling health: Norman has an upcoming surgery, and we’ve had multiple doctor visits for the rest of the family. It’s been one of those seasons where you’re handling big life things from every direction at once.

We’ve also learned some very specific “never again” lessons—like this: we don’t want to live anywhere that has a water heater on the top floor. From here on out, we’ll be looking for a setup where it’s in the garage (or somewhere that doesn’t put the whole home at risk if something fails).

If I could go back to Day 1 and tell myself one practical thing, it would be this: a detailed home inventory matters more than you think. It saves time, stress, and second-guessing when you’re trying to remember what you owned and what was where.

Right now, “stable” simply looks like this: a home that fits our needs—a place we can finally exhale again.

If you’ve checked in on us, sent encouragement, or helped in any way during this, thank you. We’re still in the middle of it, but we’re taking it one step at a time.