So, my toilet is broken. It's not like that other time when there was a giant sink hole in my floor and I could see my downstairs neighbor. This seems pretty minor.
Forgive me if I get all plumber technical on you, but the rubber string thing that goes from the handle to the rubber stopper thing that keeps the water is, well, broken. Victor came this morning and said, "This needs a part. I will get it and come back tonight." The part he needs is the "rubber string thing that goes from the handle to the rubber stopper thing that keeps the water in." Because that part is broken.
It's not so bad having to remove the lid and yank the part up manually but it definitely needs to get fixed. But, it's hard to be upset about given the fact that the whole building is about to go off the grid according to this notice Con Ed posted on the main door.
That's right, readers, as of May 25, I will be blogging by magic-markering my posts (by candlelight) on poster paper and then wearing them like sandwich boards and walking up and down Broadway. Or, maybe we'll get a treadmill and hook it up to a generator and let the kitties do some jogging?
The "hazardous condition" needing correction might be somehow related to the hole in the road in front of my house that ConEd made last winter.
And the cables running from that hole across the sidewalk--but with this nice rubber ramp so nobody trips (safety first!)
--up into the basement of the building. (Look at the hand-crafted box with the cable running along the edge of the road! Craftsmanship.)
So, really. You have to have context when your toilet is broken. And not panic. But also maybe get a lawyer. (Anybody know where I can find the number for Dodge and/or Minikes?) Because May 25 is fast approaching. And it takes a least one full laptop battery to watch two or three episodes of Columbo.
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