"Filthy water cannot be washed." ~African Proverb
I arrived home yesterday at 4:30. Even though this morning was a disaster, this evening held promise. My shipment had arrived and had been cleared through customs. The delivery men were on their way to my flat. The last of my new furniture, at least for awhile, would be delivered tonight. I walked in, and I went to check on the situation in the bathroom. Everything was dry. Thank goodness. They had cleaned up the water.
I debated calling Binu to ask him for an update. I decided against it at first, then I wondered if later I might decide that they must have fixed it and end up trying it out. I settled on the decision not to use it all until I heard from Binu.
I did not know what to do with myself while I waited for my shipment. I still had nowhere to sit. I decided to sweep the floors.
I was in the hallway, and I heard a chilling, hissing sound. It sounded eerily familiar. I ran into the guest room and at exactly that moment water began pouring from the bathroom ceiling. I quickly looked over and saw that the water heater was switched on. I switched it off. Water kept coming, much quicker than it had that morning.
I got on the phone.
"The water is coming again!" I said to Binu.
"It's coming again?!"
"Yes! Right now."
"I am coming," he replied.
I went through the process of bringing in the towels from the balcony and lining up between the bathroom and the guest room again. I made sure the drain was open, even though it was not really draining. Finally, Binu arrived. The water was already in the guest room and headed toward the hallway.
I waited for about five or ten minutes, it seemed like fifteen, until the water went off. Binu was soaked. He turned on the sink, and all that came out was steam for awhile. The ceiling was whistling. He said it will make that sound for about 15 minutes, until all of the air is ut. (It actually took about one or two hours, but no more harm was done.)
Binu informed me that the hot water heater was overheated. In my head, I am thinking, 'you mean the one you just adjusted the heat for yesterday. I didn't need it that hot.' But no matter. I asked for it.
I looked at my watch; it was 5:15 on a Thursday. I had been lucky; 5:15 on a Thursday in Dubai is worse than 5:15 on a Friday in the States. In Dubai, the holy day is Friday. Everyone rushes to finish work Thursday evening, and Friday mornings Dubai is sparsely populated. I had caught Binu in the nick of time. If my water heater had exploded any later, he would not have been in the building to come turn it off so quickly, and most likely no one would have come that night, or the next morning. If my water heater had exploded again any later, my shipment would have been here, and possibly my furniture, and there may have been damage to both. In a sense, I was lucky I mistook the button for the water heater as a light switch.
I cleaned up the water in the guest room, and closed the door to the bathroom. The men would come to fix the bathroom Sunday. I resigned myself to using only the pink bathroom until then.
After I regained my composure, I phoned Finola. The delivery men with my shipment were supposedly downstairs in the lobby. My spirit returned.
I arrived home yesterday at 4:30. Even though this morning was a disaster, this evening held promise. My shipment had arrived and had been cleared through customs. The delivery men were on their way to my flat. The last of my new furniture, at least for awhile, would be delivered tonight. I walked in, and I went to check on the situation in the bathroom. Everything was dry. Thank goodness. They had cleaned up the water.
I debated calling Binu to ask him for an update. I decided against it at first, then I wondered if later I might decide that they must have fixed it and end up trying it out. I settled on the decision not to use it all until I heard from Binu.
I did not know what to do with myself while I waited for my shipment. I still had nowhere to sit. I decided to sweep the floors.
I was in the hallway, and I heard a chilling, hissing sound. It sounded eerily familiar. I ran into the guest room and at exactly that moment water began pouring from the bathroom ceiling. I quickly looked over and saw that the water heater was switched on. I switched it off. Water kept coming, much quicker than it had that morning.
I got on the phone.
"The water is coming again!" I said to Binu.
"It's coming again?!"
"Yes! Right now."
"I am coming," he replied.
I went through the process of bringing in the towels from the balcony and lining up between the bathroom and the guest room again. I made sure the drain was open, even though it was not really draining. Finally, Binu arrived. The water was already in the guest room and headed toward the hallway.
I waited for about five or ten minutes, it seemed like fifteen, until the water went off. Binu was soaked. He turned on the sink, and all that came out was steam for awhile. The ceiling was whistling. He said it will make that sound for about 15 minutes, until all of the air is ut. (It actually took about one or two hours, but no more harm was done.)
Binu informed me that the hot water heater was overheated. In my head, I am thinking, 'you mean the one you just adjusted the heat for yesterday. I didn't need it that hot.' But no matter. I asked for it.
I looked at my watch; it was 5:15 on a Thursday. I had been lucky; 5:15 on a Thursday in Dubai is worse than 5:15 on a Friday in the States. In Dubai, the holy day is Friday. Everyone rushes to finish work Thursday evening, and Friday mornings Dubai is sparsely populated. I had caught Binu in the nick of time. If my water heater had exploded any later, he would not have been in the building to come turn it off so quickly, and most likely no one would have come that night, or the next morning. If my water heater had exploded again any later, my shipment would have been here, and possibly my furniture, and there may have been damage to both. In a sense, I was lucky I mistook the button for the water heater as a light switch.
I cleaned up the water in the guest room, and closed the door to the bathroom. The men would come to fix the bathroom Sunday. I resigned myself to using only the pink bathroom until then.
After I regained my composure, I phoned Finola. The delivery men with my shipment were supposedly downstairs in the lobby. My spirit returned.
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