These photos are pretty self explanatory today, so this little talking section is going to have absolutely nothing to do with them. So, if you don’t want to read about my every day life here in Paris, feel free to skip on and only look at the pictures. I wouldn’t blame you — life in Paris is much more exciting when you don’t think about the mundane everyday things that we have to do here in addition to in the states.
Without a doubt, the scariest thing to hear someone who is doing work on your apartment say is “Qu’est-ce qu’on fait?” (What are we doing?). No joke, there are plumbers in our bathroom right now and they’ve said that at least 15 times…
About two months ago our lovely upstairs neighbors (two floors up, mind you) left their shower on all day while they were at work (HOW DO YOU DO THAT?), causing their bathroom, the bathroom in the apartment above ours, and our bathroom to flood. So we had two holes in our ceiling as well as some water damage, meaning the insurance had to come in and fix all of that. Two months later we finally got the call saying that someone was coming to fix it. Well, not someone exactly, but a plumber, then a wall repair man, then a painter, then the plumber again (since its France, our building is incredibly old, meaning that we have a HUGE water heater hanging above our toilet that needed to be taken down since both of the holes just happened to be underneath it). They told us the whole process would take four days, meaning four days without hot water. In October.
So, the plumber came yesterday, took down the heater (after we had showered, luckily), and then the painter came in, took one look, said he could patch and fix the holes that afternoon, meaning the plumber could come put up the heater again that night. Bam, no showers without hot water. I was soooo exited.
Only one problem: the plumber didn’t think the painter could be done that quickly, so he refused to come back before tonight. Meaning that I took THE COLDEST SHOWER known to man kind this morning (well, lets be honest, it was more of a wash down the hair and really quickly wet my hands and rub them on my body as quickly as possible type thing. Aka a sponge bath….) and felt disgustingly dirty all day because it was too cold to submerge my body and truly lather up with that sweet substance known as soap.
Que the men in our bathroom: the plumbers “friends” who help him out sometimes, since the plumber didn’t want to stop by our place at 8 at night. They have no idea what they’re doing. It took them 45 minutes to figure out how to pick up the water heater so they would have it in the correct position to mount it, haha. And, without fail, every 5 minutes they swear really loud, rest the heater on the sink, and ask one another “what are we doing?”. The Husband is so nervous about all of this that he expelled himself to the doorway, the only spot in our apartment where you can’t see the bathroom.
So, what have we learned from this experience? First of all, the painter is always right, trust him when he says he’ll be done by a certain time, Secondly, never trust a plumbers “friends”. Theres a reason why he refers to them as friends, not colleagues. All in the name of hot water for my shower tomorrow morning….
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Comme des enfants 