30 March 2008

Risers


Are you tired of hanging around with hookers on the Honcho-ku in 1950?

I understand that you might, though there is much more to Kiko and her friends than meets the eye. I'm a Fleet sailor and always will be. Thanks for coming along. We can go back out there again tonight; that is the beauty of the Honch.

I got a little off track yesterday, not my fault and I apologize. I got fixated with fixing old battleships yesterday, and the constant struggle between man and nature and steel. Man wrests the raw ore from the ground. Fires it in great casks, refines it, hardens and shapes it, making the stuff of the earth into the great thundering machines, or the skeletons of great soaring shapes.

Of course, the second you turn your back, the rascally stuff attempts to turn itself back into red powder. In ships, it happened before your eyes. On land the process is a little more subtle, but treacherous just the same.

I had to consider that, along with all the other threats to my dwindling bank account when Fred, the Mayor of Big Pink, commanded the Spring Newsletter arrive in my box. Rows and rows of white paper projected from the boxes, all in a line.

Abeba handed it to me with her shy smile and radiant white teeth. I asked her what her name meant when she first appeared on weekend duty behind the desk. “In Amaresh,” she said, “it means Flower.”

I thanked her in one of my three stock Ethiopian phrases, and her smile lit up the desk. The newsletter was ominously thick. I glances over the sub-headings and the diagrams. There are some issues, and it appears that our mighty building is crumbling into ore and sand.

I curled up in the brown chair upstairs and started to plow through it. It did not come as a surprise that this particular island of concrete, brick and steel have much in common with the Pentagon: a solid skeleton beset with circulatory problems common to the aged, and are in need of serious attention.

First, there was the thing about the windows issue has been going on since I moved in. I veer from one party to another; in the days of low interest, we could have fixed everything at a nominal price- stiff, but doable.

With the financial situation today, that is problematic, but no matter. The issue is going to come to a head shortly.

The quick view of the problem is that the single-pane windows are killing us on heating and cooling costs, since they are relatively thin glass. Energy has gone through the roof, as you know, and since many units are rentals, and the condo costs are equalized for all hands, there is little incentive for people to keep the insulation up to speed on the chinks that let in the frigid blasts of winter, or attempt to cool northern Virginia's swelter in the summer.

Fuel costs have soared. Big Pink has 912 large windows and 1824 hand-cranked ones. Many of the hand-cranks no longer work, since they are all original, and all 44 years old.

Those on the first floor have the natural advantage of being able to step outside and clean the windows if they feel like it, or pry open the ones with the stripped gears when they wish, which is not the case for units with no balcony. Of course, even the ones with balconies cannot get at all the windows.

There are three options: Replace them all with modern double-pane, re-calk them all, retaining the original glass and refurbish the mechanical parts, or do nothing and avoid the expense while going bankrupt from energy costs. The last has the benefit of inactivity, waste, and increased financial obligation in the future, which makes it the logical choice.

There was a deal like this that came up when the roof began to leak several years ago. They replaced it with a special assessment to the residents, which is a tough thing to do since capital expenditures of that nature require a two-thirds vote of the owners- not the residents. With so many absentees and resident owners on fixed incomes, there is a natural and large constituency opposed to doing anything.

Ever. In that regard we are like the Congress and the Federal Deficit.

So, dire as the problem is, no one will die if nothing is done. At least not immediately. My bet is that there will be a resolute decision to kick the can down the road, but there will be a lot of whining and gnashing of teeth around the pool when it opens.

The ominous words "special assessment" are in the air. How many thousands per unit, I wondered? That is going to happen right along with the lawyer's bills and the “special assessment” levied on me by the ex. I sighed. I am starting to get the fixed-income mindset, thinking whether or not I am likely to live beyond the time of the repairs, and work the cost-benefit angle.

Flipping the pages, I found a more immediate issue, and one so implacable that something actually must be done. The "risers," are the “Black Pipe” network that takes hot water up the inside of the building are failing. The material is iron- and year by year, the interior of the pipes as corroded until the walls are paper thin, and can rupture at the slightest perturbation in pressure; the turning of a shower knob, the flush of a toilet.

On a ship that would cause the great ocean to triumphantly enter the proud air-filled void. In Big Pink, it would drain the contents of the hot-water reservoirs onto the gleaming hardwood floors and hand-knotted oriental rugs.

This has already occurred in the east end of the building, hence our awareness of the entropy in progress throughout the great bulk of the structure. There is no alternative but to replace the risers, since they are original, like the windows, circa 1965.

But knowing it, and actually doing something about it are two different things.

I was astonished to discover that the Board has decided to accelerate the process and perform a massive Black Pipe-ectomy. They intend to get it all done rather than suffer another catastrophic failure. That means that they are going to enter forty or fifty units on all eight floors and knock out dry wall in clouds of dust to gain access to the sclerotic arteries.

It occurs to me that might also include part of the bookcase frame for the Famous Murphy Bed, which filled me with some trepidation. I peered at the schematic diagram of the impending destruction, and since the area of prospective surgery is a only a black blob, I suppose I will have to deal with it as it comes.

The flyer helpfully notes that they are going to be "cutting 168 holes in the walls" to expose the pipes, and “covering the holes with heavy plastic until the actual removal begins.” There was a useful time-line for the agony:

Hole cutting: April 14-May 16.

April 27-28: turni off heat and draining entire heating system.
April 28-May 2: replace valves on eighth floor and basement/garage.
April 29-May 30: remove old black pipes and replace with new copper which will not corrode.
May 5-June 5: fill the pipes and test for leaks
May 6-June 6 insulate new pipes
May 6-June 6 replace drywall /plaster/paint.

The work can only be done in the transition period between Spring and Fall, when the outside air is benevolent, and requires us not to rely on either artificial heating or cooling.

The Board, in its wisdom, considers the inconvenience to be superior to the flood, and noted that the amount of the special assessment will be entirely dependent on the degree of difficulty in the work.

The last note showed the only ray of sunshine. The Pool opens at 10:30 am on Saturday, Memorial Day weekend. It is late in the construction cycle, but if it comes to it, I suppose we can bath out there until Big Pink's wounds are fully healed.

Copyright 2008 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com