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Hold the sprinkles
"Two things a man should never be angry at; what he can help, and what he cannot help."
- Thomas Fuller
On Monday of this week, a random pipe apparently burst in the bathroom of the apartment directly above ours. I was not home at the time, but apparently the situation was bad enough to require emergency apartment maintenance, in the form of removing large chunks of the ceiling over our shower.
Okay, fine. Plumbing's a messy business. And anyway, by the time I returned home from work, they had already plastered-and-drywalled the area to the point where we could comfortably bathe on Tuesday morning without the spring-fresh scent of asbestos. The area still needed to be painted, of course, but that did not seem to present much of a challenge for the River House's crack maintenance staff.
I assumed that this painting would be done on Tuesday while J. and I were at work. I returned home that night to find our bathroom stripped of nearly all of my belongings, including the shower curtain, and a note dangling from the shower rod.
The scene. Toothpaste tube included to give a sense of scale.
And there was an overpowering stench, a sort of sickly sweet chemical smell, like a melange of lye and butterscotch. I had to cover my nose and mouth with my tie before I could lean in an read the note.
CAPITAL TUB AND TILE REFINISHING
STOP
ALTO
DO NOT ENTER BEFORE
11-12-08
4 PM
THIS TUB HAS BEEN REGLAZED
THANK YOU.
Upon digesting the word "STOP" in large, capital letters, I backed out of the bathroom slowly, trying not to touch anything. You see, at first, I wasn't sure whether they meant to "not enter" the bathroom or just the tub -- as if I was going to strip down and take a bath in a cloud of mustard gas. I didn't know if they had treated the entire bathroom with some sort of industrial cleansing agent. My concern was not assuaged by the helpful brochure left outside the door, "Protect Your Family From Lead In Your Home," with big warning labels all over it.
Also, I initially misread the note and thought that it said "this tub has been regalized." No, I don't know what "regalized" means, and if I had to guess I would imagine it involved some kind of crown moulding. But it scared the crap out of me, just in case it involved sulphuric acid or something.
Then I realized that it said "reglazed," which is another thing I'd never heard of, outside of the doughnut ouvre. But at least it made more sense, especially after I noticed the new, blinding sheen that had been applied to the tub's surface. Apparently the apartment management had decided to "throw in" a "tub reglazing" to make up for the "inconvenience" of "tearing the shit out of our bathroom ceiling."
Briefly reminded of doughnuts, I briefly considered licking the tub. But just to be safe, I decided to stay out of the bathroom altogether -- after collecting all the critical health and beauty products.
Only once did I have to use the commode that evening, and I tried to do so without breathing in. It was kind of a fun game, like beat-the-clock. And in the morning, I had to go down to my apartment's fitness center for my morning pee and shower.
As of today, Wednesday, at 4 p.m., the tub is free to enter, and boy is it shiny. I'm not sure that a "tub reglazing" is anything I ever would have wanted, or thought about, or understood, but it was well worth the adventure. Now I kind of hope that another pipe breaks somewhere, so that we can get our toilet frosted.
- Thomas Fuller
On Monday of this week, a random pipe apparently burst in the bathroom of the apartment directly above ours. I was not home at the time, but apparently the situation was bad enough to require emergency apartment maintenance, in the form of removing large chunks of the ceiling over our shower.
Okay, fine. Plumbing's a messy business. And anyway, by the time I returned home from work, they had already plastered-and-drywalled the area to the point where we could comfortably bathe on Tuesday morning without the spring-fresh scent of asbestos. The area still needed to be painted, of course, but that did not seem to present much of a challenge for the River House's crack maintenance staff.
I assumed that this painting would be done on Tuesday while J. and I were at work. I returned home that night to find our bathroom stripped of nearly all of my belongings, including the shower curtain, and a note dangling from the shower rod.
The scene. Toothpaste tube included to give a sense of scale.
And there was an overpowering stench, a sort of sickly sweet chemical smell, like a melange of lye and butterscotch. I had to cover my nose and mouth with my tie before I could lean in an read the note.
CAPITAL TUB AND TILE REFINISHING
STOP
ALTO
DO NOT ENTER BEFORE
11-12-08
4 PM
THIS TUB HAS BEEN REGLAZED
THANK YOU.
Upon digesting the word "STOP" in large, capital letters, I backed out of the bathroom slowly, trying not to touch anything. You see, at first, I wasn't sure whether they meant to "not enter" the bathroom or just the tub -- as if I was going to strip down and take a bath in a cloud of mustard gas. I didn't know if they had treated the entire bathroom with some sort of industrial cleansing agent. My concern was not assuaged by the helpful brochure left outside the door, "Protect Your Family From Lead In Your Home," with big warning labels all over it.
Also, I initially misread the note and thought that it said "this tub has been regalized." No, I don't know what "regalized" means, and if I had to guess I would imagine it involved some kind of crown moulding. But it scared the crap out of me, just in case it involved sulphuric acid or something.
Then I realized that it said "reglazed," which is another thing I'd never heard of, outside of the doughnut ouvre. But at least it made more sense, especially after I noticed the new, blinding sheen that had been applied to the tub's surface. Apparently the apartment management had decided to "throw in" a "tub reglazing" to make up for the "inconvenience" of "tearing the shit out of our bathroom ceiling."
Briefly reminded of doughnuts, I briefly considered licking the tub. But just to be safe, I decided to stay out of the bathroom altogether -- after collecting all the critical health and beauty products.
Only once did I have to use the commode that evening, and I tried to do so without breathing in. It was kind of a fun game, like beat-the-clock. And in the morning, I had to go down to my apartment's fitness center for my morning pee and shower.
As of today, Wednesday, at 4 p.m., the tub is free to enter, and boy is it shiny. I'm not sure that a "tub reglazing" is anything I ever would have wanted, or thought about, or understood, but it was well worth the adventure. Now I kind of hope that another pipe breaks somewhere, so that we can get our toilet frosted.
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Also it's interesting that they put STOP in two languages but not the rest of the message, and that instead of STOP or PARE which you might find in some other Spanish language countries including Spain, they used ALTO, which is found in Mexico only, according to my thorough Internet research.
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Thank you for the testimonial. I will keep an eye on my new glaze. Also, I received no such usage instructions, so I now know not to clean the tub with boric acid and grape-nuts.
My sense of spanish left me long ago, but "alto" sounds like it should mean "high," not "stop." And since, as you say, the rest of the note was only in English, I imagined that a Spanish-speaking person would assume that the reglazed tub imbues the user with pharmaceutical-grade hallucinations and euphoria.
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You may not even want to use Comet or Bon Ami to clean the tub. Then again, you're a dude, so you probably never clean your tub. Wait, you're a neurotic dude. Never mind... I recommend an eco-friendly cream scrub.
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I'm relevant!
(Anonymous) 2008-11-18 03:41 pm (UTC)(link)Dr. SJB
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Someone: "It smells awful! I just know they're removing asbestos down there and we're all going to get cancer and die."
Mr. Rogan: "Asbestos is odorless, you idiot."
I loved that guy. He once let us boo a student out of the classroom.
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During the first week of the school year, Mr. Rogan asked us how most goods were transported across America.
"Cars!"
Mr. Rogan: Well, cars and trucks, yes. That's first.
"Airplanes!"
Rogan: 4th
"Trains!"
Rogan: That's third. Does anyone know what's second?
And so the class is basically silent, with someone shouting out "space shuttles" and someone else offering a different KIND of truck. Nothing. And about twice a week, Mr. Rogan would ask, "Has anyone figured out what's second yet? Anyone?" And no one would answer, and he'd start the class.
One day, in March or so, Mike Sherman comes into the class about two minutes late (the class is already underway) and shouts out "PIPELINES!" before he's even entered the room. And another kid (I want to say Mike Shea except that (a) I can't really remember who it was and (b) I'm not sure I even went to school with a Mike Shea. Frankly, it sounds made up.) stands up and yells at Mike: "Oh my G-d! I can't believe you took credit for that! I was the one who looked it up! I was the one who was going to answer!"
There's a brief silence in the room as everyone turns to the door to see what Mike Sherman has to say for himself. And he's just sort of speechless. And so the class starts booing. Mike tried to say, "I can explain! I can explain!" but the booing only gets louder. We start throwing sheets of crumbled up notebook paper at him.
Mr. Rogan does nothing to stop any of this.
Mike Sherman eventually leaves the room and we all cheer when he does. Mr. Rogan says, "This is a sad, sad day for the First Amendment" and goes on to teach whatever that day's lesson was.
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I peed in the sink.
i gotta take a wicked 'yes'