It depends on what the meaning of "as is," is...

PART ONE (EARLY AUGUST, 2009)

Six weeks ago today, I bought my pre (and during) World War I apartment, "as is." The inspector had informed me of the bathroom sink and tub leaks. It wasn't until I inspected my "merchandise" on my own that I noticed just how bad they were: leaks coming out of and engulfing both sink faucets; the constant drip-drip-drip from the spigot; as well as the steady drip the moment I tried the shower diverter in the tub(let alone, the lack of more than a mere trickle of cold water when the light rain falling on dewdrops shower head spurts on after an icy false start).

(Couldn't resist waxing poetic for a moment, there.)

A management endorsed home improvement team has already installed the second a/c in the bedroom (and boy did I need it today!) They've also cleaned up the doorframe that had been somewhat mangled by the home delivery team of yet another home improvement establishment (and I mean, bad). In a way they couldn't help it, given the narrower than a pinhead (oops, here I go again) aperture to the artistically engaged galley kitchen the previous owner--an architect--had concocted in the mid 1980's.

Keep that in mind: the mid 1980's...

As I've replaced all the kitchen appliances except for the stylistically correct--yet somewhat sluggish (though not on its last legs--at least, not yet; and crossing my fingers, here) built-in microwave, let me, indeed, focus on my beautiful vintage bathroom: with its deep and somewhat pockmarked tub; its gently yellowed floor consisting of black and white squares; its subway tiled walls fringed in black; its "quick acting" Sloan flush toilet that does not fail to delight me...every time (even if it lacks the original wood toilet seat and cover--if anything, the modern equivalent somewhat gingerly perched on top of the porcelain bowl is actually rather charming, in an endearing sort of way); and what probably counts as the bathroom's greatest, un(re)touched glory: its pedestal sink.

By the time my nonagenarian neighbor had recommended the plumbing company whose sons and grandsons she has nurtured as if they were her own, something told me I'd better go with them. Weirdly enough, as I stepped out the door on Friday, there was one of their trucks! I didn't hesitate for a second.

The plumber amiably obliged me and came to take a look. He found the valve that instantly provided me with cold water in the tub. Taking a look at the pedestal sink, though, he felt the water would have to be cut off to my tier in the building in order to change the faucet fixtures (which I had ordered about ten days earlier after a discussion with the in-house home improvement team). I was rarin' and ready in my mind--and after calling the plumbing company to set up an appointment after the courtesy call--I was definitely ready in the flesh. None other than the grandson of my neigbor's original plumber had picked up the phone; listened; asked me where my apartment was situated in the building...and with a near certainty, felt I'd have the valves I needed right inside the apartment. I crossed my fingers; and waited until this morning. (But not before I'd indulged in several "fuller" showers; and once and for all stopped cleaning up after the puddles that relentlessly continued to accumulate around the sink faucets.)

PART TWO -- SORRY I NEVER FINISHED THE TALE--IT GOT FLUSHED DOWN THE PNEUMATIC TOILET :-o!