The Great Poopscapade
The joy of moving is that you get to take out everything you own, realize you own too many things, put those things in boxes that you don’t have enough of, haul it all to your new residence, and unpack it. After moving that many boxes of books you realize why people have book burnings and library cards. Perhaps we’ll schedule a bon fire for later this summer.
Monday - The Saturday of Memorial Day weekend, Laura had planned to move in to her new apartment, which is a 2 story town house with a bathroom on the first and second floor. The tenant told her he’d be out Saturday and of course he didn’t move out on time, which meant the moving we were supposed to do on Saturday and Sunday had to all be done Monday. And Monday decided it was a good day to rain. Not a constant rain, but rather every time we had a car load of stuff to unload that couldn’t get wet, it would rain for an hour. We spent the majority of the day moving her stuff, but we didn’t move the furniture thanks to the rain.
Tuesday - We each went to work exhausted, only to get to spend Tuesday evening moving furniture in to the new place. To avoid boredom and make furniture moving more interesting, the new apartment has stairs. Moving always involves stairs. When I grow up, my house will have escalators. Tons of them. Servants too (but they can use the servants’ stairs). Thankfully Alan came to the rescue with his truck. On a side note, once again sandals are not the best choice of moving-furniture-around footwear. Mine quickly died.
After we moved everything in, we began to put everything away. But first we had to clean up because Mr. “I’ll move out Saturday and have everything professionally cleaned” turned out to be Mr. “I’ll move out late Sunday night, not clean anything, and head back to my home country.” We were thrilled to clean, because nothing says quality time like cleaning someone else’s pubic hair out from around the toilet while suffocating on cleaning fumes. Screw water boarding. The CIA should torture people with bathroom cleaning.
A new “to check for” item has been added to my apartment qualifications. Check all the faucet knobs. For example, in the tub, the shower knob looks great until you turn it over, where some sort of caustic substance has eaten through. Not an “Oh, it rusted” hole, but a “Call the CDC because a huge black biological substance eating holes in the metal.” Also, Laura noticed a strange line of silt not far from the downstairs bathroom, near where the carpet starts. We cleaned it up.
Wednesday - Still exhausted, we both went to work. The temptation to call in to work and spend the day napping almost overwhelmed me, but I resisted. I worked Job #1 for 6 hours, Job #2 for 2 hours, and then headed to Job #3 (I work 3 jobs because I am a material boy who graduated and has college debt). Around 7:30pm Laura called the office on the verge of tears. She decided to wash her sheets, and in turn the downstairs toilet decided to over flow. She swept the water out and then came to work and sat in the front office until I could go help her clean…… again.
Work ended, we went to Wal-mart and grabbed cleaning supplies (mop, new toilet brush, cleaning pads, gloves), and I cleaned and mopped where the water had been (I did the majority of the cleaning because she was sad and I’m nice). As I helped clean we wondered where the excess water had disappeared to. It didn’t vanish in to thin air or gone out the front door, but it did vanish in to the carpet, the carpet padding, and the dry wall. And the mysterious silt line she noticed the day before had reappeared - So, obviously the previous tenant had experienced the overflowing toilet as well.Every time it over flows (yea, that is plural), the little silt line reappears.
Soggy carpet sucks.
Thursday - The plumber arrived at lunch time. He scratched himself, played with some pipes, might have played with his own pipe (we weren’t watching him every moment), and claimed to have fixed the problem. Note the word “claimed”. I’m using a literary device called “Foreplay”.
Friday - God decided to lay 6 to 8 inches or rain on Stillwater in a 2 hour time span. It was the heaviest rain I have ever experienced or drive in. Every street, river, creek, lake, pond, and yard over flowed. Thankfully, our toilet did not.
Saturday - We spent the day organizing and finally putting up every last thing. Finally Laura’s apartment was completely moved in to and put away. The Internet, cable, cold refrigerator, toilets, wireless router, and even the Super Nintendo were all hooked up and running.
Sunday - In the afternoon I suggested we go on a well deserved date. We’d worked hard and had a stressful week. While Laura showered and got ready, I played games on her laptop. She finished getting ready and as we headed downstairs we saw several inches of water, from the downstairs toilet, had leaked on to the floor. Great.
Not just water, but sewage water. The kind with turds in it. And having been here only a week, there is no way that the majority of the shit belonged to Laura or me. I’m there a lot. I poop, but I’m not an elephant. We cleaned what we could, called the landlord (who assured us he’d get a plumber to come out that night), and we headed for the movies. We watched “Knocked Up,” which is excellent. Go see it. Get a large popcorn and coke too - it is worth it for this movie. We laughed hard enough that we forgot about the River of Styx, recreated with poop, that awaited us at the apartment.
We arrived back grossed out. The water we couldn’t get rid of had been sucked up by the carpet, carpet pad, and dry wall once again. This time stuff had been tucked away in the storage closet, and since it had all soaked up poop water, it was all ruined. And the landlord didn’t manage to find a plumber. Great - we had to put up with the literal crap until Monday.
Monday - After work the plumber arrived at Laura’s place. He looked around, decided a crucial something-or-other needed to be dug up outback, and called his manager. Then a long game of cat-and-mouse took place between the plumbers, the landlord, and the property owner. Finally they discovered the pipe is clogged. I’m not sure what the clog had been, but it must have been either a boulder or a damn big horse.
None of the people traipsing back and forth through the apartment tried to keep their boots clean, which meant the carpet became fertilized. However, an incompetent carpet shampooer came. One quick run six inches wide does not constitute “cleaning” anything. What a lazy s.o.b. After they left Laura and I headed to Wal-Mart to get more cleaning supplies to clean the downstairs for a third time in less than one week. I can’t describe the toilet, but I wish I’d taken a picture. If I had, your keyboard would be short-circuiting right now as youvomited all over it. The toilet had various sized pieces of shit floating/caked/glued/stuck/festering/plastered to almost every surface of it.
Oh, while the plumber walked by the thermostat, he hit it with his shoulder and broke it off the wall, meaning Laura couldn’t turn on the air conditioner.
I told Laura to distract herself while I cleaned everything within reach. I couldn’t get behind the washer and dryer though I know it desperately needs to be cleaned. We had to throw quite a bit of stuff out in the end: a box of surround sound equipment, an ironing board, a vacuum, a huge framed mirror, a bunch of brand new expensive sheets of strathmore (grrr!), etc… That doesn’t start to cover cleaning end tables, bottom of bookshelves, or any plastic storage containers from the closet.
After I cleaned, I took a shower and returned down stairs to find Laura in tears because there were thimble sized pieces of poop all around the perimeter of the room. Disgusting. I told her to pack some clothing and that we’d spend the night with friends. Thank you to Matt, Josh, and Beau who let us crash on their living room floor for the night. They even provided a comfy airmattress. “It leaks, but I figure it is a good start to your night’s sleep,” is the disclaimer Josh gave about the mattress.
Laura and I had bought some beer, fake crab meat, crackers, and brie to treat ourselves to at least one nice thing for the previous week of hell. I also had rented to DVD’s (Ice Age and Full Time Killer). We arrived at the Matt, Josh, and Beau Bed and Breakfast, and ate dinner. Afterwards, Laura curled up on the couch facing away from the TV and played Animal Crossing on her Nintendo DS until she fell asleep, while the rest of us watched the incredibly campy/terrible movie “Slither,” which is fun to watch with the right group of friends.
After the movie, Josh went to air up the mattress with an automatic pump that attaches to the side, only to discover the batteries were dead. He innocently asked Beau if a work around could be found. Thirty minutes later Beau (an electrical engineer), had a multimeter, electrical tape, a power strip, a pic board, and a computer on the floor. The computer had been opened up and its power supply was wired to the fan. The best part about having smart, clever, geeky friends is that we are our own A-Team of MacGuyvers.
Here is a video of the contraption at work.
Tuesday - The carpet remained soggy, and we remained grossed out. Laura dictated to the landlord what cleaning needed to be done over the next day or two.
Wednesday (today)- At lunch we headed back to Laura’s to move all the furniture upstairs that way a professional,competent carpet shampooer could clean the room. To top it off, we get to finish the evening moving at all back downstairs, after she has worked from 8 to 5, and I have worked from 8 to 8 (because it is “Seth goes to three jobs day”). Also, I had to have my Ford Taurus hauled off to the Salvage yard. It died and fixing it would cost much more than it is worth. At least the salvage yard paid me $50.00 for it. Apparently they will crush it in to a small cube later tonight - I wish I could see that.
So, a little over one week later and she still isn’t settled. She hasn’t gotten to use kitchen once. She hasn’t had a dry rug the entire time almost. And both of us have been stressed out to such a point that we’ve hardly been able to enjoy ourselves or each other’s company.
