Instead I'm dictating this post to my phone. And I'm thinking about how I now have to clean out at least part of the basement. Jeff from Ace Plumbing gave me a little break on the overtime, as it was simple to arrest the leak from (what turned out to be) my burst pipe. I'll have to deal with the real repair later.
By the time Ace Jeff and his pleasing soft handshake got here, I'd traced the various water paths on the floor to the general source of showers, cleared away most of the stuff blocking access to the area, figured out a way to light it, and put checkered-flag-style duct tape (retrieved from my car) around the fissure that was shooting water up to pool on the ceiling and drip back down from multiple spots. I'd also put a bucket down to catch what was still leaking from where the two pipes came together.
Even though I don't want to, I'll go down there again in little while, when I settle down a bit & the dog does too, to move the laundry and see what I need to salvage somewhat tonight. Some old movie film got wet, in canisters, but nothing super-dear, i think. A soaked box of old videos, tho, probably includes footage of my mom I might someday want to look at again, and who knows what else. I know there were textiles & cassettes among what got drenched. The box of wrapping paper may be shot.
I didn't investigate thoroughly and hope to approach the full impact already aiming for letting go, being ready to grieve easily. I was that way on discovering the mess. Calm, accepting, if a little rushed, sense of some urgency, challenge. It's not so hard with stuff, after all. Loss. Vs. people and pets and anything that echoes old abandonment.
A little more Manchurian Candidate now, first, before I go deal. Odd that such a movie about evil is comfort to me, but it is.