This is my first blog entry from the garden spot of Rego Park
in the diverse borough of Queens. (Factoid: Rego Park was established in 1923
by the Real Good Construction Company.) I confess to being a
nervous first-time blogger, but dear reader, bear with me.
The last month has been spent drying out, demolishing, and
rebuilding my co-op apartment kitchen.
Not because I felt like redecorating.
Not because I am sprucing it up to sell.
Not because I am bored.
And certainly not because I have money to burn.
No, dear reader, the hot water pipe burst within the kitchen
wall unit above mine, and management's plumber permitted the hot water to
cascade down to my kitchen in spite of my howls of protest. The result was a
disaster.
I suggested (screamed) that the plumber, who had opened up
the wall in the kitchen above mine to expose a large pipe with a three- to
four-inch jagged gap, "do something!!" to stop the unabated rush of
water onto my kitchen ceiling and thence to the adjacent walls.
A bucket could have been inserted into that gap. It was not.
The water could have been turned off. It was apparently not.
A hose could have been inserted in the upper portion of the
pipe to siphon the water to a bucket or even the sink, if that were possible. I
don't know if it was possible but it was not done.
So the water ran and ran and ran into my ceiling and into
the walls. And soon huge bubbles were hanging from the ceiling, water was
ballooning out from the walls, and even the hanging light fixture held several
inches of water in the large flat bulb. All I could do at that point, having
already been advised by management and the superintendent that there was
"no water" in the kitchens of my line of apartments, was to break out
my large black garbage bags and cover the likely water landing spots, and leave
for an appointment.
I returned to mop up the falling water and recruit a
contractor for emergency action, who reminded me to notify my insurer.
The contractor, a
dashing Israeli who dubbed himself "Ace," came right over and set up
a high-speed fan to begin the drying-out process. We had to stay ahead of the
mold and mildew that lurked in the old plaster and wall board, and as the days
passed and a sample kitchen cabinet was removed, the wall turned a mottled
shade of orange-brown.
I remember in
particular the variety of dead flattened cockroaches embedded in the wallboard
that had tumbled behind that cabinet over the years to starve to death so close
to their goal. I also remember their cousins who had made it through the
obstacle course in years past and scampered onto my kitchen counter to say
hello. Let's face it, these guys originated prior to the dinosaurs. One pauses
briefly before obliterating prehistoric insects; I mean, you have to hand it to
them, their survival rate probably exceeds those of TeaPartiers. But I digress, and will save the
next step of my learning experience demolishing and rebuilding the kitchen for
the next entry in this blog.
