We got back to lovely RI on Friday night. after sleeping in an awesome bed (read: almost big enough for me) for the first time in a week, I headed over to the house to check on progress and get a little work done.
Here's what I asked everyone to get done while I was gone: refinish floors, finish plumbing in the first floor bathroom, get the heat running continuously, finish replacing all of the outlets and switches on the first floor, install cable outlets on the first floor, finish first floor ceilings (kitchen, bathroom), get joint compound on all of the joints on the second floor.
Here's what was finished: refinish floors.
Awesome.
Here are the floors. They're not quite as dark as I'd have liked them to be, but whatever, it's done:
Once I finished up being disappointed, but not all that surprised, at the lack of work done, I grouted the first floor bath surround, cleaned up a little, and went home. I'm not quite ready for super hard work yet.
On Sunday, I patched a few holes in the bathroom walls, continued being disappointed about the work done when I was gone, and decided to get the water in the house running.
I turned on the main water valve, and went down the water lines, opening each one up one by one. So far so good. I heard something going on up on the first floor, so I hurried up stairs and listened. Luckily, it was just the radiators pressurizing, so all was well.
I started to go back downstairs when I heard what I thought was a fire hose spraying around. Intrigued, I sprinted to the sound and got to see the boiler exploding water from one of the new pipes. Brand new pipe, brand new work, brand new everything. Apparently, "brand new pipe", to my plumber, means "basement floor sprinkler system". I rushed over and turned off the main water valve, the fire hose slowed and stopped leaking, and I died a little bit.
Generally, such a thing wouldn't be a big deal, but we're moving in starting Friday. We kind of need running water. It's sort of important. Hopefully, my plumber can fix his apparent substandard work and we'll be able to take a shower.
I went home thereafter and my wife (weird) and I went to Gregg's for some sweet Easter dinner.
Yesterday (Monday) was a big deal. I went to the house after work and sprayed a few coats of grout sealer on the shower surround, cleaned up a little bit and headed home. I had to be home for 6:30 to meet with someone who wants me to pay them to pack all of our stuff up and move it to the new house.
At around 6:25, the doorbell rang. I opened the door and immediately shook two crazed hands. Two men literally ran around our apartment to check out what they'd have to do. I showed them around while these two fellows, who are essentially methamphetamine addicts, calculated the cost. After the small tour, the head of the two offered to do it for $650. I quickly agreed, shook hands 16 more times, told some stories about my time in Philadelphia (he used to own a store or two in Philly, both in the super mega ghetto) and they were on our way.
Once they left, Amanda and I realized that our stress levels had increased 13 fold, just by talking to these people. I don't have the capacity to describe these people, but I'll give it a shot. They were a mixture of that fast talking Micro Machines spokesman from back in the day, concentration camp survivors, Rolling Stones members, glue huffers and meth addicts. They were human whirlwinds. I am super excited to see these people pack up our stuff and move it in roughly 13 minutes. It's going to be hilarious, awe inspiring and probably horrifying.
This week, I need that stupid first floor bathroom to be done. I'll put the floors in today after work, drop the toilet on and set up the sink/vanity.
Sweet.
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