Not So Weird Load and Unforeseen Circumstances

Over at MKStover.com (in this post) I mentioned weird loads, or, more properly, 'Weird Load.'

Well, this load wasn't so weird, but it's worth mentioning again -not because of the weird factor, but because of the pain-in-the-you-know-what factor- even though you already know what the cargo was used to build.

It's poplar wood, freshly cut to order, loaded up and ready to go:



Only PC's truck decided it wasn't going anywhere (this is the pain-in-the-you-know-what factor I was talking about):


The radiator blew up - cracked beyond repair.

PC is a mechanical genius -among other types of genius. If something has to go wrong, PC is the guy you want to have around because he can fix it (or build it or whatever needs to be done).



I'm throwing this picture in here, too, because of the trailer sitting next to PC's.
See it?


'Eager Beaver' automatically qualifies anything that's hauled on that trailer as a candidate for the 'Weird Load' label.

Gas Line, cont.

So the pressure test to check the new line and new pipes entering the back of The 123 was Wednesday. Really, it's a 24 hour pressure test so it was Wednesday and Thursday. The test was complete with a fancy seismology-looking box with complicated circle graph paper and several arms with red pen tips on the ends.
Really.
However, I did not get a picture.
But, not to worry, because we failed the test.
So we get to do it again. Fix the leak, and then the gas company will come back and do it all again. Next week.
I will be sure to take pictures of the weird looking contraption.
Argh.

Lose Something?

PC's been dismantling the sinks in the old dentist office and this is what he found in one of the drain traps:

They're jammed in there good and tight, too.


Now that we're on the subject of weird things in sink drains....

The kitchen sink trap upstairs had a mouse in it. The only reason we know this is because the p-trap was rusted through. When we turned on the water to that sink for the first time, there were no leaks in the water lines, but when I looked underneath the sink, the trap was leaking, but I couldn't tell from where until I started poking things with my finger. When I poked the bottom of the sink trap, my finger went right through. Fortunately, I did not realized that the furry scum was a dead mouse; PC told me later when he took it apart to fix it.

Gas Line Replacement

The gas line has to be replaced. From the back of the building where the meter would be -if there was a meter- all the way up to the street has to be ripped up and updated.

I thought we were doing pretty well by getting the gas meter put back in so we could test everything and get the heat going in plenty of time so there aren't any freezing water pipes, but it's not that simple. Unfortunately.

Once the gas has been turned off to a building for more than a year, the gas company comes and reclaims the meter. That explains why it's missing. And why the pipes froze.

Because the meter was reclaimed, the entire system has to be updated and certifiably inspected before they'll give us a meter. While this gas company protocol seems a bit extreme, I have to keep in mind that it is designed to prevent explosions. So that's probably a good thing.

The lines, right now, are steel. I always thought steel pipes were fine. Apparently I am very out of date and now plastic is required.

It looks as if we have some digging to do.

Water

“Turn it off! Turn it off!”

This was me yelling from the stairway while water rained down on my head from the ceiling. Crap.

We were just testing the system to make sure there were no leaks.
Ha.

When PC first turned on the main valve, putting pressure to the old system that hadn’t seen water in a while (At least a winter of freezing weather. Or two. Yikes.), the usual hissing-charging sound echoed through the first floor; even with all the dentist office divider walls still up, the sound reverberated through the ceiling tile.

First, I ran around the first floor to all the sinks -every little room had one- and turned off faucets. If the faucets kept running, I reached under and turned off the valves. Whoever did the plumbing 40 years ago for the dentist office had the foresight to take the time to put a shut off valve on every hot water line and every cold water line underneath every sink (thank you, who ever you are). There were several leaky (okay, really: uncontrolled pour-y) faucets, and though I was scared to trust the shut-off valves, there was only one that did not do its job. Not too bad for 40 years worth of sitting there and waiting to be called into duty. With PC's help, this only took a couple of minutes, but with that hissing (potentially leaking or pouring) sound coming from over our heads, it felt much longer.

Everything was off downstairs, but the overhead sound didn't slow. If anything, it was louder. I headed out to the used-to-be-the-reception-area and through the first doorway, intent on making the next turn and running up the steps (22 of them, remember?) to see what I could turn off up there. It was that momentum that kept me going, not even noticing the little waterfall that had started down the bottom few steps until I was right in the garden-hose-with-good-pressure-sized stream pouring on my head. Crap.

I had to back down out of the stairwell and yell down the hallway before I heard the pipe-clunking that I knew meant it was off. I went back to the stairs and squished myself against the wall to avoid the slackening downpour. I had a passing thought about the usefulness of the blue rubber ridged anti-slip stairtreads that were tacked to each riser, and how, hopefully, some day when most things work, I'd be able to remove them and refinish the old wood.....

It was the toilet. It had been dry for so long that the gasket between the tank and bowl rotted (How does a toilet get this black with no water in it? I tried not to think about it.); water was still seeping from beneath the tank and tracing the porcelain in a thin line to the carpet.

***Allow me to pause here to opine the carpet*** (Wait a second - am I even using that word right? Opine? It just popped into my head....going to look it up..... Alright, it's a verb, but it doesn't give an example of how to use it. It means to harangue, preach, orate, or lecture. Which is fine, but I don't want to direct this lecture to the carpet; I want to harangue (criticize, tirade)about the carpet. I'll leave it like it is, but I'm open to grammatical correction.)
Back to opining: You'd think it would've just been the same as the rest of the blue commercial-grade carpet (minus the padding), but no, it's in a category all its own. I vaguely remember stuff like this from childhood, but I'm not sure if it was ever popular. Maybe, but if so, it was popular for just a few people (ha.). Or maybe for just a very short time. Like, until the people who liked it regained their senses.
It's blue and green and shaggy. Need I say more?

Enough about the carpet. All the stuff on the second floor stays just like it is (minus the leaks. and the refrigerator.) until after the first floor is up and running as the 123 Coffee House and the third floor has been redone so I can move my office up there without plaster falling on my head.

Water. Yes. Water. Bottom line: the toilet leaked. Badly. I tore it apart and got the repair parts and put some of it back togehter, but I will have to say (and Thank You) that PC, though much bigger than myself, crammed himself into that little bathroom to reset the tank and bolt everything down. After the carpet dried out (Shag carpet doesn't take as long as I thought to dry out. Synthetic fibers, probably.), of course.
Once the water worked, the black came off (and out), but I'll spare you the details.

It took three (?) more turn-on-the-water attempts before I didn't have to yell "Turn it off!" any more. Now, the bathroom works just fine. As long as you don't want hot water. The tiny kitchen sink is still on the to-do list (Tiny kitchen. Not tiny sink. Though it only has one bowl, the bowl is large. And it was black. But now it's white. Oh, right...sparing the details...).

It’s been almost two months since we first turned on the water, but I thought it deserved mention. I suppose I can't complain too much; if I were 117 years old, I'd probably have a few leaks, too.

All the utulities will get their post (we've touched on the electric, and now water). Or two. Or three. Right now we're dealing with the gas lines. It may get more than three posts. Or four. I'll be sure to take pictures. Crap.