Happy Fargain New Year (or, Blood and a Flood)
I give up on Rosh Hashanah. I'm over it. I have yet to have a decent one, whether or not I go to services. It snuck up on me this year, what with all the Prague planning and stuff.
I managed to take the day off work, but that turned out not to matter. I never would have made it in anyway.
Because I had forgotten about the holiday, and because I couldn't take off a third week of trivia, I worked Wednesday night. It was a bad night. I'll leave it at that.
Before heading off to Vinings, I saw that the hardwood floor in front of my bathroom was buckling upward. When I stepped on it, water came wheezing out from under the floor. It seemed to be coming from the mechanical room, where the water heater lives. I couldn't tell, though, because the door to that room is in the living room and the HVAC unit is in the way. The only access to the water heater is through a door that is screwed into the wall.
I put down a couple of towels to sop up the water already there and catch anything else coming. On the way to a bad night of trivia, I called my landlord (Don) and let him know he'll want to come by the next day. He agreed, especially when I warned him about the water under the floor.
When I got home less than four hours later, both towels were soaked through and water had started to pool on the bathroom floor, following the spaces between the tiles. There were puddles on the towels and the floor had ruptured upwards. Water had even made its way into the second bedroom; it was damp where the feet of the bed pressed down on the floor nearest the bathroom wall. I called Landlord Don again and filled him in. I also moved the little floor shelf thing out of the bathroom and into the back of the second bedroom.
The next morning, all hell had broken loose. I found out the hard way when I went to the back door in the kitchen to let out Fizzgig and stepped onto the soaking wet towel at the door (it's there when it rains and the dog wants to track in mud). Nearly half the kitchen floor was covered in water; it had even made its way to the opposite side of the room to where the computer was plugged in. It wasn't coming from under the kitchen sink - it was coming from under the cabinet under the kitchen sink.
Checking on the bathroom, I found the towels in the hall were under a thin film of water. The bathroom itself had a good half-inch of standing water throughout. The hardwood floor was almost completely torn up. There was water all along the bathroom wall in the second bedroom, soaking through at least one cardboard box stored under the bed.
I found a couple of other dry towels and set them out away from the water level (kitchen and hall) so I could dry my feet after wading through the water. I went outside to check on the dog to find her limping around.
I don't know how, but she managed to nearly rip off one of her nails. Blood all over her paw, and she was shaking from the pain.
Jesus Fucking Christ what was next?
So.
I carried her into the second bedroom so she wouldn't get her paw wet, put her on a dry towel, and cleaned the wound as best I could with tissues and peroxide. She was not happy. I pulled out the Tupperware box filled with Dog Stuff (to get her a treat) from under the bed …
… and water came with it.
Fucking unfuckingbelievable. I had to pull everything out from under the bed, first pulling the bed out from the wall, and wipe half the shit down. Luckily, the only things slightly damaged was the cardboard box filled with amy37b's stuff - just the box, not the stuff - and the thick cardboard box holding all of my extra computer supplies. My cassette case is water resistant, and all of my college books and papers are in milk crates with feet that keep them a half-inch off the floor.
Meanwhile, the dog is limping around on a bloody foot because she's too stupid to stay still even for a minute. And the water heater is still leaking.
I called the vet to see if they could squeeze her in that morning. Called Landlord Don to warn him of the flood. He told me to try and cut off the water supply which, conveniently enough, is a knob under the kitchen sink. Information that would have been handy the night before, no?
Here's why it took five minutes to do it:
1) It's dark under the sink, and the handle is dark blue and flush with the back wall; and broken;
2) I had to wade in and out of the water to get to the sink, see that I can't see, and get the flashlight;
3) I kept having to step over the fucking dog, who was constantly underfoot, limping around on her bloody paw.
I stepped on the dog once, sending her into a screaming fit for a couple of minutes and scaring the ever-loving crap out of me. Five seconds later, she was walking around again, directly where I stepped on her before, as if nothing had happened. Maybe I should rename her "Memento."
Then I tried to take a quick shower. It was quick alright - there wasn't any hot water. At all. It was all on the fucking floor. With a head full of shampoo, I about screamed bloody murder thinking all of my towels were on the floor, but in the one and only one not-shitty instant of the morning, it turned out I had left my bath towel on the towel rack, nice and dry. Thank fucking God.
I eventually got the hell out of there. Took the dog to the vet, who wanted to hang onto her for a couple of hours for various reasons. Went to visit my friend Jim up in Woodstock and dropped off a couple of boxes of books from the office for his used bookstore.
Home with the dog by 6:00.
The upshot:
The vet clipped off most - but not all - of the broken nail. She didn't tear the whole thing off, but she did rip it in the wrong direction and snap it. It will be sore for a few days, but will eventually grow back. In the meantime, I have antibiotics and pain meds to give her. The pain meds, of course, make her all wonky and have a constant need to stand right next to me so I can accidentally kick and/or step on her every time I move.
I got a new water heater. When I got home, the plumber/handyman guy hadn't quite finished with everything yet. I figured that out went I turned on the water and nothing happened. He still had a couple of things to do, and was done with that in 20 minutes. Everything works fine now.
Landlord Don had somehow mopped up the floors, so everything was pretty much dry and relatively clean. The floor near the bathroom, however, is completely ruined and will need replacing. Maybe some of the floor in the second bedroom, too. This morning I noticed the floor on the living room side of the mech room was buckling. It got worse in just an hour, but it seemed to be air, not water.
Once things dry out, he'll replace all the floor that needs it, probably next week. He may wait until I go out of town to do it. I don't know how long the mold smell will last; it was pretty rank this morning.
In the end, I don't think it's as bad as the water issues I had at my last place. Also, Don is pretty much on the ball about this sort of thing. He loves fixing shit, so this is right up his alley.
As much as I need to relax this weekend, that ain't happening. Too much to do before leaving Wednesday night.
Here's the worst of it. The second bedroom is immediately on the left. The door to the mech room is in the bathroom, just past the door.
Here's Fizz's feet. The arrow is Photoshopped in. Compare her right front foot to this picture.
I managed to take the day off work, but that turned out not to matter. I never would have made it in anyway.
Because I had forgotten about the holiday, and because I couldn't take off a third week of trivia, I worked Wednesday night. It was a bad night. I'll leave it at that.
Before heading off to Vinings, I saw that the hardwood floor in front of my bathroom was buckling upward. When I stepped on it, water came wheezing out from under the floor. It seemed to be coming from the mechanical room, where the water heater lives. I couldn't tell, though, because the door to that room is in the living room and the HVAC unit is in the way. The only access to the water heater is through a door that is screwed into the wall.
I put down a couple of towels to sop up the water already there and catch anything else coming. On the way to a bad night of trivia, I called my landlord (Don) and let him know he'll want to come by the next day. He agreed, especially when I warned him about the water under the floor.
When I got home less than four hours later, both towels were soaked through and water had started to pool on the bathroom floor, following the spaces between the tiles. There were puddles on the towels and the floor had ruptured upwards. Water had even made its way into the second bedroom; it was damp where the feet of the bed pressed down on the floor nearest the bathroom wall. I called Landlord Don again and filled him in. I also moved the little floor shelf thing out of the bathroom and into the back of the second bedroom.
The next morning, all hell had broken loose. I found out the hard way when I went to the back door in the kitchen to let out Fizzgig and stepped onto the soaking wet towel at the door (it's there when it rains and the dog wants to track in mud). Nearly half the kitchen floor was covered in water; it had even made its way to the opposite side of the room to where the computer was plugged in. It wasn't coming from under the kitchen sink - it was coming from under the cabinet under the kitchen sink.
Checking on the bathroom, I found the towels in the hall were under a thin film of water. The bathroom itself had a good half-inch of standing water throughout. The hardwood floor was almost completely torn up. There was water all along the bathroom wall in the second bedroom, soaking through at least one cardboard box stored under the bed.
I found a couple of other dry towels and set them out away from the water level (kitchen and hall) so I could dry my feet after wading through the water. I went outside to check on the dog to find her limping around.
I don't know how, but she managed to nearly rip off one of her nails. Blood all over her paw, and she was shaking from the pain.
Jesus Fucking Christ what was next?
So.
I carried her into the second bedroom so she wouldn't get her paw wet, put her on a dry towel, and cleaned the wound as best I could with tissues and peroxide. She was not happy. I pulled out the Tupperware box filled with Dog Stuff (to get her a treat) from under the bed …
… and water came with it.
Fucking unfuckingbelievable. I had to pull everything out from under the bed, first pulling the bed out from the wall, and wipe half the shit down. Luckily, the only things slightly damaged was the cardboard box filled with amy37b's stuff - just the box, not the stuff - and the thick cardboard box holding all of my extra computer supplies. My cassette case is water resistant, and all of my college books and papers are in milk crates with feet that keep them a half-inch off the floor.
Meanwhile, the dog is limping around on a bloody foot because she's too stupid to stay still even for a minute. And the water heater is still leaking.
I called the vet to see if they could squeeze her in that morning. Called Landlord Don to warn him of the flood. He told me to try and cut off the water supply which, conveniently enough, is a knob under the kitchen sink. Information that would have been handy the night before, no?
Here's why it took five minutes to do it:
1) It's dark under the sink, and the handle is dark blue and flush with the back wall; and broken;
2) I had to wade in and out of the water to get to the sink, see that I can't see, and get the flashlight;
3) I kept having to step over the fucking dog, who was constantly underfoot, limping around on her bloody paw.
I stepped on the dog once, sending her into a screaming fit for a couple of minutes and scaring the ever-loving crap out of me. Five seconds later, she was walking around again, directly where I stepped on her before, as if nothing had happened. Maybe I should rename her "Memento."
Then I tried to take a quick shower. It was quick alright - there wasn't any hot water. At all. It was all on the fucking floor. With a head full of shampoo, I about screamed bloody murder thinking all of my towels were on the floor, but in the one and only one not-shitty instant of the morning, it turned out I had left my bath towel on the towel rack, nice and dry. Thank fucking God.
I eventually got the hell out of there. Took the dog to the vet, who wanted to hang onto her for a couple of hours for various reasons. Went to visit my friend Jim up in Woodstock and dropped off a couple of boxes of books from the office for his used bookstore.
Home with the dog by 6:00.
The upshot:
The vet clipped off most - but not all - of the broken nail. She didn't tear the whole thing off, but she did rip it in the wrong direction and snap it. It will be sore for a few days, but will eventually grow back. In the meantime, I have antibiotics and pain meds to give her. The pain meds, of course, make her all wonky and have a constant need to stand right next to me so I can accidentally kick and/or step on her every time I move.
I got a new water heater. When I got home, the plumber/handyman guy hadn't quite finished with everything yet. I figured that out went I turned on the water and nothing happened. He still had a couple of things to do, and was done with that in 20 minutes. Everything works fine now.
Landlord Don had somehow mopped up the floors, so everything was pretty much dry and relatively clean. The floor near the bathroom, however, is completely ruined and will need replacing. Maybe some of the floor in the second bedroom, too. This morning I noticed the floor on the living room side of the mech room was buckling. It got worse in just an hour, but it seemed to be air, not water.
Once things dry out, he'll replace all the floor that needs it, probably next week. He may wait until I go out of town to do it. I don't know how long the mold smell will last; it was pretty rank this morning.
In the end, I don't think it's as bad as the water issues I had at my last place. Also, Don is pretty much on the ball about this sort of thing. He loves fixing shit, so this is right up his alley.
As much as I need to relax this weekend, that ain't happening. Too much to do before leaving Wednesday night.
Here's the worst of it. The second bedroom is immediately on the left. The door to the mech room is in the bathroom, just past the door.
Here's Fizz's feet. The arrow is Photoshopped in. Compare her right front foot to this picture.