Water, water, everywhere

One of the things that I love about art is the immersion.  I don't think about anything else.  The edges around blur and the background fades.
Last night, Doug was working his part-time, once a week job at the YMCA.  At some point, he came through the door and came into the dining room where I sat working.
"Do you know there is water running down the entryway floor and out the front door?" 
"what?" 
I had put a load of laundry into the washer.  I think in the very, very back of my mind I was thinking
that load of laundry should have been done by now. 
But I wasn't thinking about it enough to get up to see what was going on. 
My washer just kept filling.  It had not moved beyond the fill stage in hours.  Just a few hours, but hours.  The washer over-flowed. 

When you come through the door of the house, there is a long entry way hall and then you turn right at the end of the hall and that is where the washer and dryer sit.  Fortunately we have ceramic tile and it didn't hurt the floor at all.  Doug and a couple of neighbors loaded up the washer this evening into the back of his pick-up truck.  He will take it in to the repair place tomorrow.  Because we live in the country, it will save some money for him to take it to them rather than having them come out to visit us. 
Why didn't I notice all of that water? 
I was doing this:

Pretty little feather

 and this:

Bloom

 and this:

Building their nest

 and this:

Dream

Doug asked me if I was smoking crack when I made the last one.  I said "no."  He told me that he might feel better if I was.  I don't usually do anything too abstract- but I had seen something similar in a magazine and wanted to experiment.  It was fun.
In the midst of a flood, the only thing that carried me away was my art!