|I'd leave, if my shoes weren't filled with Little People.|
Remember how, way back on Monday, I realized that I had taunted fate by posting about the hilarity of the previous Thursday's bodily fluid debacle? Well, I got my comeuppance once again by continuing to post about said fluids- this time in the form of a sewer explosion.
And I'm going to do it again, simply by referencing last Monday's travails. I'm totally like a kid who keeps pushing an irate parent into more and more groundings.
"Wanna make it two weeks?"
"Fine, three weeks."
The plumbers came early yesterday morning to check their work- which, up to this point, had consisted of fixing numerous pipes, filling in a cesspool, and pouring concrete all over the lower level of our house. Basically, today they were going to run a smoke test and make sure that no smoke escaped into our home- meaning, of course, that our pipes possessed zero holes from which smoke could travel.
When they arrived, we greeted them with some unfortunate news. From the time they left the night before until that a.m., we had run the dishwasher and done a few loads of laundry, and a horrific smell not unlike rotten eggs being shoved into your nostrils was filling the entirety of the house. That's right, whereupon before any of this work had been done the smell had been confined to the lower level, now it was permeating the entire abode.
The plumbers were pretty sure what the smoke test was gonna show them. And they were right! Since the four major gaps in the pipes had been fixed, that freed up the rest of the pinprick holes in the pipes to step it up and truly shine. (In the form of breaking open completely.)
I asked one of the plumbers if it was the worst he'd ever seen.
"No way," he said. "Top three, though. Definitely. God, this is bad."
And the insurance check which we had oh-so-recently been [tentatively] approved for? That whole "complete renovation of a bathroom" and "majority of the plumbing work" check? Yeah, that's getting scrapped for now, as we all recalculate how much it'll cost to take the bathroom down to the studs, re-line the entirety of the sewer pipeline, and gut the majority of the lower level's flooring and walls.
Nora saw me cry. The plumber saw me cry. Heck, the guy driving the Speedy Express van and dropping off a package from Amazon.com saw me cry.
Did I mention that we have guests coming this afternoon and staying until Monday?
Before the plumbers left yesterday, they headed into our main floor bathroom for a quick de-clogging of the sink- something which was "a cinch" to do (and something which I'm pretty sure they're no longer charging us for at this point). And there was a clog, all right, but the majority of the problem likely stemmed from the fact that the pipe leading from the sink HAD NEVER BEEN GLUED INTO THE DAMN WALL. Just hanging out. A free agent, if you will. So they glued a new one into place, since- hadn't you guessed?- the previously unglued one had also completely rotted out.
The plumbers joked that they'd have to rip out the wall and see about all of these pipes. Ha HA. Plumbers are hilarious.
And last night was spent cleaning literally inches of concrete dust off of things on every floor. Thick, sticky debris required multiple dustings and even more go-rounds with the mop. And it's still filthy. And really, really smelly.
P.J. saw me cry. The cats saw me cry. My woefully low bottle of Peppermint Schnapps saw me cry.
A completely hypothetical question to all homeowners: Was there a point in your homeownership where you realized that you would never recoup your money spent? Was it within the first three years?