Recovering from the cure
We went to bed Sunday night with a water heater that was spewing propane fumes into the bathroom and was tapping into the supply line of our toilet tank. If you kept the water on to fill the tank, you were also running the shower. Turn off the shower, and you have a one flush toilet. So we had some repair work to get done.
Monday morning saw us up bright and early. We had invited some friends over for dinner (before we knew we'd be having bathroom woes) and we wanted to get our grocery shopping done early. Yau Neih had to give a piano lesson after lunch and I had our regular school load to do. We had left the bathroom door open and had the fan running all night. The air in the bathroom seemed breathable, so I shut off the fan and shut the door. After breakfast, I went back into the bathroom and smelled the propane again. Sigh. I once again wished we had stuck with sponge baths in the wash basin. But we hadn't, so I had to make a decision. Do we risk throwing a dinner party while workmen are clanking about in the bathroom? Or do we hold off on the repairs and subject our guests to a half repaired, potentially dangerous bathroom? If this were America, I would without hesitation opt for the former. But we were in China, entertaining folks who do development work in villages where everyone uses a potentially dangerous bathroom. Flushing with a bucket wouldn't have phased them in the least. Of course, neither would the workmen. It would have just been another anecdote to tell the folks back home.
By the time we returned from our grocery shopping, I had the foolish notion that perhaps we could get the ductwork done today and call the plumbers in tomorrow. It might have made sense were I able to make the arrangements myself, but of course, I don't have the language for that. And Suburban Service doesn't make service calls this far out. But I wasn't really thinking. So I called Gordon, a teacher who was dubbed our deputy wai bon since Thad was going to be out of town for the week. He was busy and couldn't come over right away, but he said he would drop by when he could. He eventually arrived about noon, and with the unit as a visual aid, I was able to explain the exhaust problem. In the process, however, I had another one of those guilty rich foreigner moments. Such moments are when it's revealed that you are used to a much higher standard of living than your neighbor. In this case, Gordon was a bit surprised by the whole concept of a water heater. I explained how it heated the water on demand and that we "needed" it because the regular hot water wasn't flowing. Gordon agreed that getting hot water was a problem during the holidays. Of course, he also pointed out that he and others occasionally go somewhere off campus to have a hot shower.
Anyway, all the bad feelings were mine. Gordon didn't seem to be jealous or anything. He made a call to the repair dude, but the dude wasn't answering his cell phone. We waited for a couple of minutes, hoping he would call back. It was a bit awkward just standing around, so in an attempt to make small talk, I mentioned the problem with the water connection. I tried to tell Gordon that we had dinner guests coming and would rather have the water fixed on Tuesday, but all Gordon heard was the water problem. He eventually called a different handyman and they agreed to come over to the flat after rest time, around 2:00 pm.
Gordon and the repair dude did show up after rest time, and as I feared, they started looking at both the vent and the water valve. I figured I'd just accept my fate and let the expert do his job. I once again went back to my schooling duties while the handyman went clunking in my bathroom. It was a minor source of anxiety as the day wore on and he had to run out for this part or that. Our guests had been invited to arrive at 4:30 and as that appointed time neared, I started wondering if it would be good manners to invite the handyman to join our dinner party. But my worries and wonderings were unfounded. Our handyman left, work completed, at 4:30, and our guests were fashionably late enough to allow us the chance to wipe the dirty footprints off the bathroom floor with a damp mop. Our guests need never know what had occurred in our apartment in the hours before their arrival.
Well, except for the fact that we told them everything that happened. I mean, we foreigners love swapping anecdotes for the folks back home....
posted by John @ 12:07 AM
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