Hi all! Sorry for the delay in writing. We are still dealing with a bit of a "situation" at the PUG OFF World Headquarters. The scene unfolded at about 1 a.m. Sunday morning. Whilst a wee bit intoxicated from an evening of fun at Catfish's house, the hubs alerted me to a potential problem in our bedroom by screaming expletives loudly. He and Sonny the Pug had just experienced a raining sensation at the foot of our bed and they were concerned that the shy was falling. Turns out it was worse than that – the ceiling of our bedroom was stained with large water spot and appeared to be sagging. While I stood clear of the collapsing area, the hubs ran upstairs to try and pinpoint a cause for this little foray into home ownership disaster. I knew he was in the upstairs bathroom and that there was a problem when I could hear him clearly through the floor screaming launch into his second run of expletives.
I think it's important to point out that the Aggie and I operate very differently during crises. The Aggie is a reaction man. He sees the problem, appreciates the severity of the situation and then immediately does something about. I, on the other hand, remain freakishly calm, pull out a notebook and pen, and determine who/what I can contact more information/educated advice. In this type of "situation" – with your toilet trying to drown you while you sleep – the reaction man is in his element. While I brainstormed and made a call list, the hubs had the stroke of genius to turn off the water to the offending toilet. Luckily for us, this stopped the flooding, as we were unable to immediately locate our main water switch-off valve. (Side note: If you can't find that fucker anywhere, go check your damn neighbor's yard. I am not even kidding a little.)
After making a call to his dad at 1 a.m. (you know us, waking people up from a dead sleep to spread the panic), the Aggie decided we were okay for the night and could proceed to bed. Sunday morning the situation seemed brighter after we called in reinforcements (Hi Madge's crew!). Let me just say here in official public record that if it hadn't been for the love of my long-suffering best friend and her willingness to sacrifice her husband (Hi Razorback!) for the good of my plumbing, then we would have been up Shit Creek without a paddle. Within an hour of having called for help, Madge and her family were helping rip up Sheetrock, tile, flooring and MOLD.
As it turns out, the previous homeowners fancied themselves amateur home interior designers and contractors. None of the "remodel" – and I'm using that word loosely – was done by professionals. In fact, pretty sure the previous owners – Todd and Carrie for those of you keeping score – did not even bother reading Remodeling for Dummies. Safe money is on them basing their home improvement techniques on that of Tim "The Tool Man" Taylor. The atrocities we have encountered in the last 48 hours include but are not limited to: an absence of all sub-flooring, bolting/gluing/caulking/stapling/welding a toilet together from the inside out and to the pipes, and gluing carpet down on top of laminate flooring. (By the way, that last one is my personal favorite.) This was one of those repair jobs that shouldn't have been too involved. Unfortunately, our bathroom turned out to be one of those girls that looks all right n the dim lighting, but after you see her take the makeup off you realize you've been dancing all night with the ugly girl who has warts. That's how the whole experience feels -- like we went from a simple toilet replacement to rebuilding the flooring and mold eradication.
Here's what the place looked like at 8 p.m. Sunday:
Here's the view above the ladder:
I'm thinking of making a pair of feet dangling from the ceiling one of the features of our master bedroom.
Here's Madge yelling at me to hurry up and take the damn picture before Home Depot closes!
And here's Madgette hanging out the sunroof of our Trailblazer while we waited for her mommy outside Home Depot:
Why, you ask, is Madgette screaming at the top of her lungs and flailing her arms wildly? Because it was our sixth trip to that particularly inept housing supply store and we were a bit exhausted. Plus, that's just how we roll.
Today marks Day Three of the Plumbing Disaster of 2008 and I am told that we are very close to having a new toilet installed. Now that we've broken not one, but two bolts and unsealed some ring-a-ma-jig while attempting to secure the commode into place, hopefully, tonight I have a date with tiles and grout. And while right now tiling couldn't seem like easier task, I'm pretty sure that I will have an entirely different story to tell you in the morning.
I think it's important to point out that the Aggie and I operate very differently during crises. The Aggie is a reaction man. He sees the problem, appreciates the severity of the situation and then immediately does something about. I, on the other hand, remain freakishly calm, pull out a notebook and pen, and determine who/what I can contact more information/educated advice. In this type of "situation" – with your toilet trying to drown you while you sleep – the reaction man is in his element. While I brainstormed and made a call list, the hubs had the stroke of genius to turn off the water to the offending toilet. Luckily for us, this stopped the flooding, as we were unable to immediately locate our main water switch-off valve. (Side note: If you can't find that fucker anywhere, go check your damn neighbor's yard. I am not even kidding a little.)
After making a call to his dad at 1 a.m. (you know us, waking people up from a dead sleep to spread the panic), the Aggie decided we were okay for the night and could proceed to bed. Sunday morning the situation seemed brighter after we called in reinforcements (Hi Madge's crew!). Let me just say here in official public record that if it hadn't been for the love of my long-suffering best friend and her willingness to sacrifice her husband (Hi Razorback!) for the good of my plumbing, then we would have been up Shit Creek without a paddle. Within an hour of having called for help, Madge and her family were helping rip up Sheetrock, tile, flooring and MOLD.
As it turns out, the previous homeowners fancied themselves amateur home interior designers and contractors. None of the "remodel" – and I'm using that word loosely – was done by professionals. In fact, pretty sure the previous owners – Todd and Carrie for those of you keeping score – did not even bother reading Remodeling for Dummies. Safe money is on them basing their home improvement techniques on that of Tim "The Tool Man" Taylor. The atrocities we have encountered in the last 48 hours include but are not limited to: an absence of all sub-flooring, bolting/gluing/caulking/stapling/welding a toilet together from the inside out and to the pipes, and gluing carpet down on top of laminate flooring. (By the way, that last one is my personal favorite.) This was one of those repair jobs that shouldn't have been too involved. Unfortunately, our bathroom turned out to be one of those girls that looks all right n the dim lighting, but after you see her take the makeup off you realize you've been dancing all night with the ugly girl who has warts. That's how the whole experience feels -- like we went from a simple toilet replacement to rebuilding the flooring and mold eradication.
Here's what the place looked like at 8 p.m. Sunday:
Here's the view above the ladder:
I'm thinking of making a pair of feet dangling from the ceiling one of the features of our master bedroom.
Here's Madge yelling at me to hurry up and take the damn picture before Home Depot closes!
And here's Madgette hanging out the sunroof of our Trailblazer while we waited for her mommy outside Home Depot:
Why, you ask, is Madgette screaming at the top of her lungs and flailing her arms wildly? Because it was our sixth trip to that particularly inept housing supply store and we were a bit exhausted. Plus, that's just how we roll.
Today marks Day Three of the Plumbing Disaster of 2008 and I am told that we are very close to having a new toilet installed. Now that we've broken not one, but two bolts and unsealed some ring-a-ma-jig while attempting to secure the commode into place, hopefully, tonight I have a date with tiles and grout. And while right now tiling couldn't seem like easier task, I'm pretty sure that I will have an entirely different story to tell you in the morning.
2 comments:
Why did we want to buy houses again? Our husbands knew what was best standing on that train platform and trying their best not to let us drag them aboard.
We had toilet trouble too... I feel your pain sister.
toilets can be sent from satan. we have had numerous problems. it usually starts from shitty installation. someone once fell through the floor at our old house.
at the house we live in now we had to build a new bath room and plumb to new septic system. this time everything was done correctly, only because we hired it done.
big daddy
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