Life Living on a Runway—well sort of…
[image error]When it rains it pours. Or in my case when the pipes back up. Our building was built in 1948 (and supposedly JD Salinger once lived here.) Buildings that old have a certain charm. And a lot of quirks. Most of them the kind you laugh and shake your head over. But just over a week ago, one of the 63 year old drains got plugged. And since said drain was in a wall, no one knew about it—until the floors in my apartment started buckling.
The drain was on the 6th floor. We live much higher up. So basically what was happening in my apartment was happening in all the floors below me—only worse. Word from the super is that the fifth and sixth floor equivalents of my apartment were wiped out. So we were lucky. Except that we weren't.
Not only did the 62 year old wood floors buckle (thankfully only about an eight foot square of flooring), but the water rose up and flowed into one of our hallway walls and down the corner of our kitchen. The plaster buckled, the paint bulged and then split and our Sunday was interrupted by a stream of (really nice) maintenance men. Enter the jet engines (and you were wondering about the title…) Really, they were dehydration machines (that also could easily play the part of a jet engine for a Foley artist). These machines basically suck all the moisture from the air. As evidenced by the fact that for over a week now my hair has been standing on end (static electricity) and our bathtub has been home to the tubing that drains the sucked moisture away.
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Not my kitchen but it could play mine on TV
And in addition to the dehydrator—two industrial blowers that turned my hallway into an over-zealous runway wind machine for me and a downright aggressive wind tunnel for my dog Max. Every time he went by he looked like a corgi version of Toto or maybe one of the 'cows' from Twister. Needless to say he moved really quickly down the hall. For a week we literally yelled every word in order to be heard (probably by all the neighbors as well). And had to have our stereo so loud I'm certain that someone in the building thinks that Donald Fagan lives in our building and practices with Steely Dan in the apartment.
And watching the Closer took more than its allotted hour because we kept stopping it and rewinding to try and actually hear the dialog. You're thinking I'm exaggerating—and I swear I'm not. Anyway, today they came to start plastering the now super-dry walls…and turned off the machines. And it's so quiet I can actually hear my heart beating. And the dog breathing. And the traffic outside the windows (okay so there was a good side to all the white noise).
[image error]But the cabinet (full of cleaning supplies and medicine) in the hallway is listing to the south—they pulled it away from the wall, and away from the supports that held it to said wall. And the machines—though still idol are still blocking my hallway and bathroom door. So it's not over (although I sincerely hope that as you read this—it is.)
Truth be told, it was a very long week, but it could have been so much worse. And the staff in the building and all the various dryers, plumbers, painters and plasterers that have been trooping through the house have been super nice and amazingly reassuring and helpful. So I really can't complain…okay I can, but just a little.
And did you know that typing on a keyboard is really loud?
What about you? What's going on in your neck of the woods?
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