Disclaimer: I posted knowing that it was going to be extremely long. I don't apologize for it. Read at your own risk.
My parents decided about a year ago that our kitchen needed to be renovated. The primary problem was that our kitchen was too small. So, others things finally taken care of, my parents decided to start work on the kitchen. On Sunday we took on the task of moving our kitchen to its temporary home downstairs, a small kitchen a sink
and a few cupboards, but no appliances.
The moving job is completed in the morning as work begins on the kitchen. The plan is to use the spaces previously occupied by the kitchen and the adjoining washroom to make one long, new, fresh kitchen. The workmen proceed to tear down the walls of the kitchen (and a part of the washroom), and the more they tear down, the more they need to tear down (they didn't like how sound the old structure was).
For about 5 days straight (and on other days in the past) my fathers favourite plumber (or so it would appear) has been trying to fix 3 toilets in the house. Apparently he's not too good at it. He's to come in the morning but there's no sign of him.
Work on the kitchen continues. As the men knock out a wall they burst a pipe, and the water to the house has to be turned off to prevent water loss. I'm home alone (workmen outside, of course), with no water. I call my father who calls the plumber. He's to arrive later.
A half of the old kitchen floor was slabbed and the other half tiled. The whole floor is to be slabbed again so that it will be level with the washroom floor. The workmen decide to remove the original slabbing, but at they chip away they noticed that it's hardly a 'slab'- it's mortar thrown on top of some loosely laid floor boarding. So they decide to leave it as is. Unfortunately that means the floor is now open and exposed.
Clouds start to gather overhead, spoiling a string of days of clear weather. Eventually, it starts to rain. It's heavy for a short while, but light for even longer. It ends, and the men head back to work. The plumber arrives to fix the pipe. It takes a little while but he gets it done, and so I turn the water back on. The workmen alert me. There's another leak, this one by the side of the house. The broken concrete they had thrown over the side landed right on top of a PVC. So again, the water goes off, and the pipe gets fixed. The plumber heads to the toilets, manages to get one of the 3 fixed, and decides he'll return tomorrow to finish (he's been saying that for days).
I decide to go downstairs for a plate. I notice the kitchen is flooded, and by extension so is the adjacent room, and I have no idea where all that water came from. One side of the stove is filled with water, so I know that water had come through the ceiling (which is right below the now exposed kitchen floor). But the amount of water seemed too great. But my mother and I conclude that it has to all be from above. I spend the majority of my afternoon/evening doing the majority of the cleaning, with a mop whose stick was broken in half (I'm 6'2", for the record). In addition to an entirely messy kitchen, the two rooms that lead to it (all in a line) are not in use except for being storage areas for things we don't have space for upstairs. Thus a lot of belongings are on the ground, or in boxes. There's also a small couch and the old stove in that room. All these things have to be moved as I clean. I also have to clean upstairs because the demolition off the kitchen sent loads of dust into the house, and unto the floors. I made it my job to clean up.
I'm awaken by the terrifying sound of heavy rain. I rush out to the back to see if the floor has been covered. It hasn't. The rain eases for a bit and I call the boss. I tell him of the problem we had yesterday, assuming that he would've already been told by my parents (who were already at work). He wasn't. I go downstairs to check the status of the kitchen.It's flooded again, and this time I see the water dripping from all over, and the cellotex gets discoloured and swollen. I leave for a few minutes to speak with the boss again. The rain gets heavier. He decides that the slabbing has to be done today to stop the leaking, a change in his original plan. I go back downstairs. Flooding has tripled in a matter of minutes- now the kitchen, and the two rooms east of it are flooded.
The floor incline in the last room causes the water to back up in it, away from the door that leads outside. But there are 2 serious dilemma: 1. The volume of water in the ceiling may be too much, causing a collapse; and 2. The two others room are littered with items that need to be lifted. The workmen are busy attempting to solve the problem outside, and I'm alone inside with this mammoth problem. I move what I can, including many sheets of ply and cellotex, and give up on the rest. The rest will survive (travelling bags, garbage bags, old unused PC parts). I try pushing water out but with the rain not holding up, my efforts are futile. I go upstairs in an effort to not be too work-up about the problems I face here.
I go back down to check that everything that needed to be moved was moved, only to find that one of the boxed which I'd elevated on a chair had fallen over and its contents littered over the flooding floor. Joy.
Meanwhile, the workmen through some seriously creative improvisation manage to cover most of the affected area upstairs, thus limiting the amount of water flowing below. The plumber arrives, and finishes work on the toilets.
It's now late afternoon, and I decide it's almost time to start the cleanup process with my broken mop stick. It's a difficult one, involving clearing the rooms completely and getting rid of the water, and then cleaning the floor properly. My mother arrives, and as she looks around she moves the stove to get it out of the path of the dripping water. The hose leading from the stove gets bend too much, and breaks. I'm forced to go outside and turn off the gas tank, fix the hose, and put it back on,
I go to the tank room, and turn the tank off. But I find that there's still a hissing sound. That sound turned out to be water leaking badly from a pipe which runs through the room, and leads to... the toilet, of course! To stop the leak, we must once again turn off water to the house. Luckily I notice a tap along the pipeline, and turn it off. The water is still leaking, but not as badly. I return to the kitchen and fix the stove, sealing the hose with electrical wires rather than its proper clamp (the clamp is broken). It takes a while, but it works. It seems that finally, my work is done.
Wed., 10:00 a.m.: I woke up to hear that the pipe was fixed by he plumber earlier in the morning. The leaking downstairs has died down, but the cellotex is badly stained.
Wed., 2:40 p.m.: I heard gushing water outside and went to check. The 'fixed' pipe seperated at the joint. Once again, water to the house is locked off. Once again, the plumber will be here.
My parents decided about a year ago that our kitchen needed to be renovated. The primary problem was that our kitchen was too small. So, others things finally taken care of, my parents decided to start work on the kitchen. On Sunday we took on the task of moving our kitchen to its temporary home downstairs, a small kitchen a sink
and a few cupboards, but no appliances.
MONDAY
The moving job is completed in the morning as work begins on the kitchen. The plan is to use the spaces previously occupied by the kitchen and the adjoining washroom to make one long, new, fresh kitchen. The workmen proceed to tear down the walls of the kitchen (and a part of the washroom), and the more they tear down, the more they need to tear down (they didn't like how sound the old structure was).
For about 5 days straight (and on other days in the past) my fathers favourite plumber (or so it would appear) has been trying to fix 3 toilets in the house. Apparently he's not too good at it. He's to come in the morning but there's no sign of him.
Work on the kitchen continues. As the men knock out a wall they burst a pipe, and the water to the house has to be turned off to prevent water loss. I'm home alone (workmen outside, of course), with no water. I call my father who calls the plumber. He's to arrive later.
A half of the old kitchen floor was slabbed and the other half tiled. The whole floor is to be slabbed again so that it will be level with the washroom floor. The workmen decide to remove the original slabbing, but at they chip away they noticed that it's hardly a 'slab'- it's mortar thrown on top of some loosely laid floor boarding. So they decide to leave it as is. Unfortunately that means the floor is now open and exposed.
Clouds start to gather overhead, spoiling a string of days of clear weather. Eventually, it starts to rain. It's heavy for a short while, but light for even longer. It ends, and the men head back to work. The plumber arrives to fix the pipe. It takes a little while but he gets it done, and so I turn the water back on. The workmen alert me. There's another leak, this one by the side of the house. The broken concrete they had thrown over the side landed right on top of a PVC. So again, the water goes off, and the pipe gets fixed. The plumber heads to the toilets, manages to get one of the 3 fixed, and decides he'll return tomorrow to finish (he's been saying that for days).
I decide to go downstairs for a plate. I notice the kitchen is flooded, and by extension so is the adjacent room, and I have no idea where all that water came from. One side of the stove is filled with water, so I know that water had come through the ceiling (which is right below the now exposed kitchen floor). But the amount of water seemed too great. But my mother and I conclude that it has to all be from above. I spend the majority of my afternoon/evening doing the majority of the cleaning, with a mop whose stick was broken in half (I'm 6'2", for the record). In addition to an entirely messy kitchen, the two rooms that lead to it (all in a line) are not in use except for being storage areas for things we don't have space for upstairs. Thus a lot of belongings are on the ground, or in boxes. There's also a small couch and the old stove in that room. All these things have to be moved as I clean. I also have to clean upstairs because the demolition off the kitchen sent loads of dust into the house, and unto the floors. I made it my job to clean up.
TUESDAY
I'm awaken by the terrifying sound of heavy rain. I rush out to the back to see if the floor has been covered. It hasn't. The rain eases for a bit and I call the boss. I tell him of the problem we had yesterday, assuming that he would've already been told by my parents (who were already at work). He wasn't. I go downstairs to check the status of the kitchen.It's flooded again, and this time I see the water dripping from all over, and the cellotex gets discoloured and swollen. I leave for a few minutes to speak with the boss again. The rain gets heavier. He decides that the slabbing has to be done today to stop the leaking, a change in his original plan. I go back downstairs. Flooding has tripled in a matter of minutes- now the kitchen, and the two rooms east of it are flooded.
The floor incline in the last room causes the water to back up in it, away from the door that leads outside. But there are 2 serious dilemma: 1. The volume of water in the ceiling may be too much, causing a collapse; and 2. The two others room are littered with items that need to be lifted. The workmen are busy attempting to solve the problem outside, and I'm alone inside with this mammoth problem. I move what I can, including many sheets of ply and cellotex, and give up on the rest. The rest will survive (travelling bags, garbage bags, old unused PC parts). I try pushing water out but with the rain not holding up, my efforts are futile. I go upstairs in an effort to not be too work-up about the problems I face here.
I go back down to check that everything that needed to be moved was moved, only to find that one of the boxed which I'd elevated on a chair had fallen over and its contents littered over the flooding floor. Joy.
Meanwhile, the workmen through some seriously creative improvisation manage to cover most of the affected area upstairs, thus limiting the amount of water flowing below. The plumber arrives, and finishes work on the toilets.
It's now late afternoon, and I decide it's almost time to start the cleanup process with my broken mop stick. It's a difficult one, involving clearing the rooms completely and getting rid of the water, and then cleaning the floor properly. My mother arrives, and as she looks around she moves the stove to get it out of the path of the dripping water. The hose leading from the stove gets bend too much, and breaks. I'm forced to go outside and turn off the gas tank, fix the hose, and put it back on,
I go to the tank room, and turn the tank off. But I find that there's still a hissing sound. That sound turned out to be water leaking badly from a pipe which runs through the room, and leads to... the toilet, of course! To stop the leak, we must once again turn off water to the house. Luckily I notice a tap along the pipeline, and turn it off. The water is still leaking, but not as badly. I return to the kitchen and fix the stove, sealing the hose with electrical wires rather than its proper clamp (the clamp is broken). It takes a while, but it works. It seems that finally, my work is done.
UPDATES
Wed., 10:00 a.m.: I woke up to hear that the pipe was fixed by he plumber earlier in the morning. The leaking downstairs has died down, but the cellotex is badly stained.
Wed., 2:40 p.m.: I heard gushing water outside and went to check. The 'fixed' pipe seperated at the joint. Once again, water to the house is locked off. Once again, the plumber will be here.
4 comments:
Hell at home is right. Our hearts go out to you. (No wonder you needed a back rub)
LOL!
Hush man :s i Feel your pain. Its pretty i am sure couple weeks from now when you look back u'll be able to laugh at it all, until then hang in there. (y)
Thanks.
But you know, the funny thing is I don't have to wait to laugh about it. I had to keep a cool head the whole time in an effort not to support my mother's rising BP. That's kinda why I ended up doing so much, cuz she was getting worked up and I kept saying,"Don't worry, I'll take care of it", in calm tone. That helped. I seem to be getting more patient :-) So it really wasn't that bad, only tiring.
Ironically, I came downstairs to find dirty shoe prints on a small part of the floor I'd cleaned yesterday, and that's what's getting me mad :S
Murphy's Law...
I am here for you :-)
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