![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
carpet saga
Oct. 4th, 2006 10:14 pmQuickly, before I go spin.
Yesterday I woke up to a little puddle on the floor next to my bed which was partially covered by my favorite (I know! I'm an old woman!) bed jecket. Now, Nimbus is very occasionally a pisser and likes cloth, so I figured that I had paid the price for not picking up after myself. I threw a towel over it and got ready for work, figuring I'd clean it when I was dressed. An hour later (okay, two) I come back and step towards the spot... and my foot goes "squish" into the carpet. It's wet too. It's all wet, in fact, and not Nim's fault. The big storms of this weekend and Monday seem to have raised the local water table to an unacceptable degree.
I call the landlord. I realize that the laundry room has wetness seeping up through the ceramic tile. I realize that the mold in the bathroom is probably not due to my failure to turn on the shower fan, but due to water behind that wall as well. I realize that this has been going on for more than two days. By this time, my LL has picked up the phone. Then, I realize that I haven't talked to him since the time he sort of had to break into the house when our house and catsitters left the gas on in the stove and went out for the day. And that he had to break in because the only lock he has a key to is the back door, which is still jammed up with a key which broke off in the lock despite many MANY hours of tweezing, silly putty, and judicious use of adhesives and lubricants in our attempts to remove it.
This, as Simon Tam would point out, is an appropriate time to swear.
So we recap that little incident (ha ha! Wasn't that funny, the house almost blowing up?) and then I tell him about the carpet squish. He'll send someone over. I tell him about the scary black mold in the bathroom, but it mostly goes over his head because he's working. He'll send someone over.
He does send his father-in-law over to check it out (he lives in the Great Northeast now) and they say it's not too bad, they'll call someone to dry the carpets. The Carpet Drier arrives this evening about 7 pm, about 36 hours into the incident. Add one hour to that because he has to leave, get his fan, and come back. CD is nineteen or MAYBE twenty years old, cute as a button (if buttons had nicely defined forearms and fetching accents) and borrowed equipment. He continues to borrow after he gets here: he needs a hose. He needs paper towels. He doesn't ask for help moving the furniture, but we help because we care and because we want to supervise and because he's practically in high school, did we mention? The only thing broken is one of the feet on my nightstand, which is waterlogged and smushes away like a wet piece of bread. The boys continue moving it. All the drawers fall open. (Frak me. What do you keep in your nightstand drawers? You want it out for public consumption by the neighbors?) CD is, in fact, a neighbor, lives right down the street. Great. All the water stinks of mold. We chat, CD and I, about his hometown and mine and how much water is coming up. He finishes drying and cleaning the wet patch, and wants to do the rest of the carpet as well "just in case". I send Elwood downstairs to supervise and keep him company (it's only polite) because I want to take my mind off this and spin. Which is what I ought to go do.
Yesterday I woke up to a little puddle on the floor next to my bed which was partially covered by my favorite (I know! I'm an old woman!) bed jecket. Now, Nimbus is very occasionally a pisser and likes cloth, so I figured that I had paid the price for not picking up after myself. I threw a towel over it and got ready for work, figuring I'd clean it when I was dressed. An hour later (okay, two) I come back and step towards the spot... and my foot goes "squish" into the carpet. It's wet too. It's all wet, in fact, and not Nim's fault. The big storms of this weekend and Monday seem to have raised the local water table to an unacceptable degree.
I call the landlord. I realize that the laundry room has wetness seeping up through the ceramic tile. I realize that the mold in the bathroom is probably not due to my failure to turn on the shower fan, but due to water behind that wall as well. I realize that this has been going on for more than two days. By this time, my LL has picked up the phone. Then, I realize that I haven't talked to him since the time he sort of had to break into the house when our house and catsitters left the gas on in the stove and went out for the day. And that he had to break in because the only lock he has a key to is the back door, which is still jammed up with a key which broke off in the lock despite many MANY hours of tweezing, silly putty, and judicious use of adhesives and lubricants in our attempts to remove it.
This, as Simon Tam would point out, is an appropriate time to swear.
So we recap that little incident (ha ha! Wasn't that funny, the house almost blowing up?) and then I tell him about the carpet squish. He'll send someone over. I tell him about the scary black mold in the bathroom, but it mostly goes over his head because he's working. He'll send someone over.
He does send his father-in-law over to check it out (he lives in the Great Northeast now) and they say it's not too bad, they'll call someone to dry the carpets. The Carpet Drier arrives this evening about 7 pm, about 36 hours into the incident. Add one hour to that because he has to leave, get his fan, and come back. CD is nineteen or MAYBE twenty years old, cute as a button (if buttons had nicely defined forearms and fetching accents) and borrowed equipment. He continues to borrow after he gets here: he needs a hose. He needs paper towels. He doesn't ask for help moving the furniture, but we help because we care and because we want to supervise and because he's practically in high school, did we mention? The only thing broken is one of the feet on my nightstand, which is waterlogged and smushes away like a wet piece of bread. The boys continue moving it. All the drawers fall open. (Frak me. What do you keep in your nightstand drawers? You want it out for public consumption by the neighbors?) CD is, in fact, a neighbor, lives right down the street. Great. All the water stinks of mold. We chat, CD and I, about his hometown and mine and how much water is coming up. He finishes drying and cleaning the wet patch, and wants to do the rest of the carpet as well "just in case". I send Elwood downstairs to supervise and keep him company (it's only polite) because I want to take my mind off this and spin. Which is what I ought to go do.
