A Modest Proposal Part 1

A representation of me for the last two months.

    We've all been juggling a lot of balls the last two years. While, for the most part,  I've been doing okay with it, this week I finally hit a wall and I'm worn out. So worn out that I have no idea what I want to write this week and while it isn't really the focus of this here blog, I feel like proposing an idea.

Let's Destroy All Upstairs Neighbors*

     In early December, I woke up in the morning and rolled out of bed to hear and feel a splash. There was water covering the majority of my bedroom carpet. To say that I freaked out is an understatement. Me, being the magically self-critical creature that I am, immediately thought what did I do wrong? What have I messed up now?  

Post-30-second wallow I ran to the bathroom; the closest water source. I have a tiny hallway that separates the living area from the bedroom with the bathroom right in between. Picture a “T” with the living/bedroom on opposing sides and the bathroom perpendicular to them. The flood was even higher in the tiny hallway. Cue another 30-second wallow because OMG, I’ve really screwed up badly. I mean I know that my toilet had been running occasionally, but this was gallons and gallons and no water had ever come out before. 

 I took a step forward and looked in the bathroom. There was more water, much much more. I took a step onto the tiled floor, slipped, and immediately fell backward onto my backside also knocking the back of my head hard on the soaked carpet. It hurt and I was now as wet as the floor from head to toe, great. Finally getting my sea legs in this new land of water, I could see that all three of the ocean-creating systems were dry as a bone. Well, the top portion of the toilet was dry which left the bottom standing in about three inches of water. Where had all of this come from? 

Being the absolute genius that I am, I quickly turned with the goal of checking the kitchen sink totally forgetting that the floor was slippery as an eel. Dear readers, do I really have to tell you what happened next? I shouted a lot of words that would make a sailor blush as I lay there, on the wet floor, again. This time the tile had broken my fall...or broke my head, you pick. 

Wringing myself out, I walked into the living room to feel more water (what the hell? Do I now have oceanfront property, and is it high tide?) It was gradually less wet as I got away from the bathroom. Huzzah for some good-ish news! By the time I reached where the carpet switches to the tile of the kitchen, it was dry. I checked the sink anyway just in case.  

I ran back into the bathroom and turned the water off to the toilet and then ran outside to turn the water off to my condo, all the while my anxiety-ridden critical brain is having a running commentary like it’s tied in the ninth of the last game of the World Series and the announcers hate my team. I tell myself to breathe, there must be a reasonable explanation for this. Everything that could be leaking is dry, the water doesn’t seem to be rising, but holy mole, I’m in trouble. Where, for the love of God, did all this water come from? I grab every towel I own and throw it down then grab all of the rugs that I can still lift and toss them out onto the patio.  

Finally, I decided to make the call. You see, my parents own this condo, I just rent from them. That adds a whole new dimension to things as I’m thinking, “I’m a freaking middle-aged adult and am terrified that my mommy is going to kill me!” Whatever, this is adulting and I’d have to make the call even if I had a more normal landlord. (The big difference being a typical landlord isn’t going to try and ground me.) I rang them and started out with something to the effect of “Houston, we have a problem.”  

The call went surprisingly well. I had been scheduled to meet up with my mom to go grocery shopping so I stated the problem, told them the steps I had taken to find the source and that I had shut off the water to the entire unit. I said that our grocery trip was off until I located the problem, and I would continue to search for the cause. 

 

I hung up and went back to spread out towels then wrung them out to use again. It was then that it hit me, if the water didn’t come from me, where did it come from? (Imagine a light bulb over my head.) The unit next to mine is a snowbird and they hadn’t been here for at least two years. The unit above me, however, was occupied so I sent a text asking if they’d had an issue with water.   

The two texts I got in response still flummox and anger me in equal measure today. If you feel like following along, you’ll find out what he said in the next installment of my proposal.  

 
 

*Honestly, my original idea was much harsher than the concept above but in light of our political climate and for fear of being "canceled" I tempered it.