Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Part 3: This is why I don't own a house.

Part 1

We went to bed that night with cardboard duct taped to the gaping hole in the ceiling. I truly cannot believe I didn't take a picture, but then again, I truly believed that the hole would be fixed up and that would be the end of the story. If you know me in real life, you know this would just be too easy.

So the next day my wonderful husband and I were laying in bed, in that delicious half awake, half asleep state. It was a Monday morning, but he was off and I was going in to work super late, so we were taking advantage of a well deserved morning in. There we were, enjoying the quiet and listening to the dog make little chicken noises as she tried to get comfortable.


The dog leaps up, barking like a maniac, and flies downstairs to bark some more as someone pounds on our door. It is obviously 8:30am.

So we let the maintenance guys in, show them the ceiling, and go about making breakfast. As a side note, let me tell you how AWKWARD it is to go about your daily business with strangers in your house watching you. Judging you. Wanting some of your oatmeal. It is awkward.

Anyway, they pulled down the cardboard only to reveal a giant wet spot. Yes, a wet spot on the cardboard - the side facing the pipe. Our non-English speaking friend didn't do such a hot job fixing the pipe. He also didn't do such a hot job on the follow-up paperwork because the new maintenance guy jammed his hand up into this hole:
And promptly screamed. The pipe was (still) hot. As it was when the first guy came. Two grown men burned their hands in my ceiling. Why? We watched them fool around in the ceiling for about an hour. And listened to them make phone calls. And watched them walk back and forth between my house and the tool shed.

Finally, I couldn't handle it anymore. I put the dog upstairs and we went grocery shopping. After a full hour of walking up and down the aisles at Weis (the "bad one", which I happen to like), Ryan and I loaded up our arms with the bags (we never make two trips from the car - $100 worth of groceries in 1 trip, always) and jokingly, Ryan said "Do you think it's fixed, or worse than when we left?"

I'll give you a head's up. It wasn't fixed. But really, you should have known that.

Anyway, as we walked up the walkway, our nextdoor neighbor came out (the cat lady) and asked "Is it your hot water pipe that burst?"

Of course it is, Cat Lady. Of course. She goes on to say that the water people came door to door saying that they needed to shut off the water so they could work on a (my) house. And so we walk in the door, and before we even looked at each other, we both burst out laughing. There was no one in the house and everything was as it was when we left. Except the ceiling. Now it looked like this:

It would have been too easy to come home to a fixed ceiling. Honestly, you must have known that.

A quick phone call to the leasing office and 12 hours later, someone came in to drywall and 8 hours after that, someone came in to paint. At this point, my ceiling is fixed and my furniture is covered in a fine layer of drywall dust. Well, everything was covered in dust. We cleaned that up pretty promptly because I was afraid of getting the dust in my lungs. And that the dog might try to lick it.

If nothing else, this proves that things happen to me strictly so I can write about it. Oh, and that if you ever stick your hand in the ceiling to touch anything, make sure it's not the hot water pipe.

No comments: