It's a Monday: Part II
The series of unfortunate events that transpired this morning has already been righted! Well, mostly.
Robi may be the Romanian modern-day version of a super-hero, as he has kept me from demise more than twice. He's a professional rockclimber and fix-anything guy who knows how to put real zest into "ceau, ceau." Many of you will remember that I came down with food poisoning in the Retezat mountains two years ago, and because two others and I were too ill to trek out, Robi came careening over the narrow mountain road in his red Dacia to collect our limp frames and take us home. Seeing him emerge at Poiana Pelegii with that Dacia was one of the most blessed sights I'd seen, and even while listening to "Bette Davis Eyes" play on a repeat track of five songs over that three hour drive, Robi seemed to have plucked us from the hand of a wasting disease called cascaval cheese and sausage.
When Daniel told me that Robi would be coming around noon today, I knew the situation in the bathroom was about to meet its match. As the three of us finally stood assessing the general spread, I learned that the fantastic assemblage of pipes, valves, and cement beneath the sink actually had an explanation. Because mice had been coming up through the paneling last winter, someone had devised the solution of mixing cement with broken glass and smearing it in prodigious amounts all around the pipes. Since the pipes were thus elegantly cemented to the wall, it would have been impossible to access them without completely ripping off all the paneling.
To avoid such an extended, expensive project, Robi left to contrive his own devices and soon came back smiling with tools, paneling, drills, new tubing, and all manner of items. Oh vie, vie -- problema mare! The problem WAS big, and though the shoddy construction of these apartment blocs would leave most North Americans scratching their head as to how to fix anything, Robi was cheerily twisting washers, taking off the faucet, and making good of the situation before I could even figure out which pipes were going where. He nearly soaked himself a couple times but kept ratcheting and drilling at the problem for most of the afternoon. And now! Este foarte frumos! We laughed and proclaimed it beautiful, the new white pipes twisting almost artistically from the newly-affixed faucet and running up and over and around to the hot-water heater. Never mind that the water pressure in the sink is so low from straining up the rust-clogged pipes, that the shower head is currently held on by red masking tape, that the tub is stained various shades of brown, or that the pipes are fixed in a grave of cement and broken glass beneath the sink -- the hot water is working again, which warms me to the core.
You see, the water heater is important for more reasons than just showering with warm water or using the bathroom sink; it really is the only source of hot water in this apartment. The kitchen faucet runs cold, so to do my dishes, I first take a big plastic tub into the bathroom, fill it with hot water, and carry it back to the kitchen counter. Losing hot water for a day reminded me how grateful I am for it, however it manages to find its way up and out the pipes.
Things fall apart, but today, I am thanking God for the people who put them back together. Multumesc foarte mult, Robi.
Robi may be the Romanian modern-day version of a super-hero, as he has kept me from demise more than twice. He's a professional rockclimber and fix-anything guy who knows how to put real zest into "ceau, ceau." Many of you will remember that I came down with food poisoning in the Retezat mountains two years ago, and because two others and I were too ill to trek out, Robi came careening over the narrow mountain road in his red Dacia to collect our limp frames and take us home. Seeing him emerge at Poiana Pelegii with that Dacia was one of the most blessed sights I'd seen, and even while listening to "Bette Davis Eyes" play on a repeat track of five songs over that three hour drive, Robi seemed to have plucked us from the hand of a wasting disease called cascaval cheese and sausage.
When Daniel told me that Robi would be coming around noon today, I knew the situation in the bathroom was about to meet its match. As the three of us finally stood assessing the general spread, I learned that the fantastic assemblage of pipes, valves, and cement beneath the sink actually had an explanation. Because mice had been coming up through the paneling last winter, someone had devised the solution of mixing cement with broken glass and smearing it in prodigious amounts all around the pipes. Since the pipes were thus elegantly cemented to the wall, it would have been impossible to access them without completely ripping off all the paneling.
To avoid such an extended, expensive project, Robi left to contrive his own devices and soon came back smiling with tools, paneling, drills, new tubing, and all manner of items. Oh vie, vie -- problema mare! The problem WAS big, and though the shoddy construction of these apartment blocs would leave most North Americans scratching their head as to how to fix anything, Robi was cheerily twisting washers, taking off the faucet, and making good of the situation before I could even figure out which pipes were going where. He nearly soaked himself a couple times but kept ratcheting and drilling at the problem for most of the afternoon. And now! Este foarte frumos! We laughed and proclaimed it beautiful, the new white pipes twisting almost artistically from the newly-affixed faucet and running up and over and around to the hot-water heater. Never mind that the water pressure in the sink is so low from straining up the rust-clogged pipes, that the shower head is currently held on by red masking tape, that the tub is stained various shades of brown, or that the pipes are fixed in a grave of cement and broken glass beneath the sink -- the hot water is working again, which warms me to the core.
You see, the water heater is important for more reasons than just showering with warm water or using the bathroom sink; it really is the only source of hot water in this apartment. The kitchen faucet runs cold, so to do my dishes, I first take a big plastic tub into the bathroom, fill it with hot water, and carry it back to the kitchen counter. Losing hot water for a day reminded me how grateful I am for it, however it manages to find its way up and out the pipes.
Things fall apart, but today, I am thanking God for the people who put them back together. Multumesc foarte mult, Robi.
Yea! Yippee! Three cheers for Robi! I told your dad that Robi would come and repair whatever needed to be repaired...and I was right! WE LOVE ROBI! Multumesc Robi! :)
ReplyDeletealright, i'm canceling the plane tickets for chad and me to come and fix the plumbing. i was wondering how chad was going to get his tools past airport security :) it is nice to have a heros in your life, isn't it?
ReplyDelete