The supers got in touch (by "in touch," I mean they shoved a note into my mailbox late Wednesday evening, even though I was sitting in the living room and they could have spoken to me. Wednesday was the day they had promised to replace the toilet by, but I wasn't surprised that it hadn't gotten done on time. The note said the floor did, indeed have to be replaced before the plumbing was replaced (Oh! What a shock!) and we could pick a day this week to have that done. Jim was able to take a comp day, so we decided to go for first thing Monday morning (that would be now) It took them until Friday night to confirm, we would be first on Monday morning.
Not that anyone has ever shown up on time here, but we figured that would indicate sometime between nine and ten. In order for the floor to be replaced, Jim and I had to dismantle the shelving unit we built into the little bath. So, joining the piles of stuff from the pantry and the contents of the bookcase from the bedroom which are still piled about, waiting for the cable guys, we now have the contents of the bathroom shelves and cabinet in new piles - along with the shelves and the cabinet itself, of course.
I think I may have discovered how the idea of labyrinths and hedge mazes got started.
So, why am I writing to you at 8am?
Since Jim was here to let them in, I decided to sleep until they rang the bell. There was a chance, slim though it was, that someone would ring the bell at 9, because the apartment crew doesn't start till then. But there was just as good a chance that no one would show till noon.
At 8, jim decided to use the main bathroom so he wouldn't get caught, as they say, with his *pantsu* down. Well, you know how sympathetetic magic works - the carpenter showed up at a quarter after, raising his eyebrow at me and repeating that the paperwork had said he would be here at 8. (Paperwork? Someone got paperwork?)
Jim (if you ever have to deal with Jim and I in a problem capacity, Jim is definitely the one you want) ushered the carpenter down the hall, asking if he had enough room to maneuver through the path of piles of crap in twisty turny corridors, while I muttered that the cable guys were the first to ask for mound-building to occur, and I wasn't shifting an already shifted pile of books.
The carpenter said no, he was probably good with the space that was cleared for him, and would yell if he wasn't -- until he got to the bath and looked in.
You see, the carpenter can't replace the floor, because in spite of the fact that the super has know about the plumbing problem for almost two weeks, he has never removed the leaking toilet, nor even disconnected it so it can be manhandled out.
Walkie-talkies crackle, and the carpenter is assured that the super will take care of it first thing - after he gets here, sometime after nine. I wonder if that means the toilet will actually get replaced today too, or if the super will disappear once the removal stage is done.
(using announcer voice from Love Of Chair): And what about
I don't recall if I mentioned in all these updates that the last time I had floor pulled up (in the main bath some years ago, due to a leak in the apartment above us (pre-vacuuming woman) that resulted in a bulge in the bathroom ceiling in the shape of Elvis' head, (the Las Vegas Years - but I digress) - they pulled out the toilet and went to lunch. Powzie, my evil black tortoiseshell cat, jumped into the hole and vanished into the crawl space, and after lunch they put the toilet back and sealed the hole. It took me many frantic hours to solve the logic puzzle and then locate her, pressed to the well at the far end of the apartment next to the wall. Thankfully my very tall, very thin, very gay friend Fritz crawled along the hot water pipes in a copper colored jumpsuit, giving himself a tribal brand from the heating of the zipper on the way, and got her. (That was how we discovered the pipes beneath our apartment had lost their insulation wrapping, which is why is was always so blasted hot in here. Did I ever tell you about how the cabinets in the kitchen were attached to the wall with finishing brads?
And yet, I love my apartment. Go fig.
I promise to post something other than plumbing next time, even if it has to be icons.