Well That Escalated Quickly

Day 3 of Sprinkler Crisis 2014

Sprinkler Crisis 2014 Factoids

The ceiling at the end of Day 2 after additional parts were removed to allow the sprinkler company to have a look around up inside the guts of the building.

• The plan simply to replace the bad part of the sprinkler pipe and dry out the ceiling and wall was overly optimistic. 

• The entire system of piping in our downstairs drop ceiling was installed incorrectly and attempts to patch make it crack elsewhere.

• The ceiling of our dining room, kitchen and storage room needs to be removed to replace the pipes.

• I no longer know what paint we used for the bright lime green in the storage room so there is some risk that the room has to be completely repainted.

• I desperately hope that the insurance coverage will also cover dealing with the aforesaid paint issue so that I do not have to lift a single paintbrush.

• The following question is on loop in my head: did the sprinkler installer finish screwing up our downstairs and then saunter upstairs to install the pipes incorrectly in our closet, directly above my clothes?

• I wish the leak had happened in the ceiling that I want to redo.

• I’m ignoring my own advice to move rather than live in a home while contractors replace your ceiling. 

Drip. Drip.

I’m no construction expert, but I’m fairly certain it is bad to see this on our kitchen ceiling. There I was, innocently reheating lasagna and pouring us some Chianti when I saw the monstrosity and squealed.  Dinner was put on hold immediately and I called the building manager in a panic.  The plumber was on his way.

We spread out dog towels under the blister and strategically positioned the pasta pot.  Holes appeared and water streamed out. So we drank the wine, ate the lasagna and watched the ceiling.  I mean really, what else could we do?  But then we wondered if the ceiling would fall. Quick scramble to move everything valuable out of the way.

Guess who was totally unstressed by the crisis and tried to make the towels into a bed as we searched for more?

Another blister formed. I popped the bubble to allow a more controlled release of the water and I’m not gonna lie, that was kind of fun. At least for me since I wielded the knife and AD got stuck holding the pot: 

The water damage restoration guy called and arranged to arrive first thing in the morning.  Since we still awaited the plumber I inquired about the possibility of the ceiling falling. “Oh no. It probably looks a lot worse than it is. There is likely very little water leaking.” 

Finally the plumber came to save us. His first words, “That’s a lot of water. Wow.” Not particularly comforting. Less comforting was that the more he dug into the problem, the more he said it. I stopped counting at five utterances. Plumber guy turned out to be a wealth of entertaining quotes.

After the initial draining was complete, he stood back and said, “Unfortunately now we're going to have to make a mess. “ Because water blistering our ceiling and dripping all about isn’t already a mess? Just sayin’.  But yes, he was right – cutting holes in the ceiling does in fact create a bigger mess.  I couldn’t stop thinking about how many coats of ceiling paint I had already suffered and now there would be more.

Plumber guy tarped the floor and we shored up the edges with dog towels. He stood on the ladder and quite tenderly poked at the ceiling with a long serrated drywall cutting knife. He explained, “I’m taking this slowly because I don't want it to splash on me since we don't know what kind of water it is yet.” 

AD and I looked at each other in alarm. What do you mean “what kind of…”? O.M.G. Until that moment we hadn’t even considered the possibility of sewage. [Shudder]. Should we switch the Chianti for Scotch and fast?  I immediately thought about that sewage pipe running through our dining room that has vexed us in the past and glared reflexively.

Relief washed over us all when he was able to confirm that it was a pipe for the fire sprinkler. Who ever would have thought a busted sprinkler would be good news?

He cut more freely through the ceiling. “It’s like butter. Hehe.” Dude must be a comedian in his off hours.  But yes, our ceiling was quite gloppy.

Then while his head was in the ceiling: “Hhm. I've never seen that before."  This guy is killing me. He patched the pipe though and declared it safe to hold overnight for the arrival of the sprinkler and restoration teams in the morning.

I think we will have to repaint.

AD and I went to work with final cleanup – there really wasn’t much, just some drywall dust (that apparently we need to embrace as a part of our lives again) and dirty towels that needed attention. Wow, it really could have been so much worse…

And then AD opened the under stair storage closet to haul out the vacuum. Funny, we didn’t remember a pond feature in our closet.  Grrrrr. Our five minute cleanup morphed into emptying the closet of Christmas decorations, golf clubs, paint, etc. etc. And my Ugg snow boots that drowned.  [Sad face] At least they appear to be the only casualty of Stuff. 

For lack of anything more suitable, AD used an old dog blanket to soak up the closet pond while I searched for a bucket to hold the drippy mess – no way would I put that in the pasta pot.  With surprise from the storage room I yelled, “Hey, we have a mop!"  Hilarity ensued - that laugh as not to cry kind of thing. Although I’ve sworn for almost two decades that a cleaning lady is the last thing I would ever cut from the budget (hey, I lived on ramen in law school and I could do it again), even I was at least a little shocked that we didn’t realize we had a mop.

To be continued… 

He Shoots, He Scores!

If you are a sports fan at all, you’ve probably heard about the US-Canada Olympic hockey match-ups this past week. The Canadian women’s team beat the American women to take the gold and the Canadian men’s team beat the American men to advance to the gold medal game.  Despite being a born and bred American, I couldn’t help but root for the Canadians. Not to brown-nose as I move closer to getting a Canadian passport (though if it works, let the record reflect…), but because the Canadians adore their hockey so much that you just can’t help but want them to win.  I know there are pockets of rabid hockey fans in the United Sates, but up north it is a national phenomenon.  

For instance:

So far all the men’s games have been at 9am here on the west coast. Our pub across the street opens early on game days and makes their weekend brunch menu available for the games, brewing up fresh coffee and letting fans linger over their eggs for hours as the action unfolds.  They also serve beer with breakfast if that’s your thing – Go Canada!

We were at Whistler yesterday during the US-Canada men’s match so AD missed his breakfast with hockey (it was a close call whether he would go for powder and sunny skies or the game).  In the gondola on the way up the mountain one guy watched the game on his phone as AD and others craned their necks to see the tiny screen too. Seriously? I can’t even see the darn puck on a big screen TV.

There seemed to be an awful lot of furious score checking in lift lines.

At a fork in a run where a number of people had stopped, a Quebecker yelled, “Les canadiens ont gagné!” AD yelled a translation that Canada had won and skiers everywhere erupted into cheers. On the middle of the mountain.  It was all kinds of awesome. 

The notoriously strict BC liquor department has decided to permit bars to open for the 4am gold medal match on Sunday.  It isn’t even clear that anyone petitioned for them to make an exception or if they just decided it was the right thing to do.  Eggs Benedict or not, AD is on his own if he decides to go watch at the pub at 4am in the morning. I’m American and therefore not required to get up at that ridiculous hour for hockey.

 A Canadian radio station posted this. I think it sums up the situation nicely.

Tease

We are in home improvement mode again!  Here are some photos of the planning stage of our current project:

 

I will have After photos either in ten days, or in April.  I’ve been through enough with contractors that this enormous swing in the timing estimate doesn’t even make be blink.