Let's Destroy All Upstairs Neighbors
When we last met, I shared how my place was flooded yet I hadn't been able to find the source. The bathroom, dining area and about half of my bedroom was covered in water. It was so wet that I'd slipped multiple times, hitting my head. In between throwing towels down and wringing them out to use again, I texted upstairs.
Mind you, I’d been dealing with this mess for at least a couple of hours and this yahoo thinks that A. He shouldn’t have let me know there was a problem? And B. He thinks it’s an easy fix and a couple of towels will set me straight? ARGH.
Hey, at least I know the source now. I finally had a source and an entry point, the ceiling fixture in the wee hall outside of the bathroom. I can’t believe I hadn’t looked up earlier. Of course, being pretty flummoxed over all this, I didn’t think to actually look up prior to turning on said light, which then blew the circuit breaker and gave off some wonderful sparks.
In a way, I felt so much better. This wasn’t my screwup. I took a breath, in for ten, held for ten, exhaled for ten, held for ten, and repeated that a few times. Nope, still screwed. It didn’t look like the water was still flowing but just in case I shot another text upstairs asking if he had it fixed or had turned off the water. HE HAD NOT, faithful reader. He hadn’t even called his landlord yet. This water had been running down into my house for hours at this point. Where was it going now if not out from the light fixture?
I ran outside turned off his water and said that he needed to make the call immediately. Dear reader, he had the balls to say not to turn off his water because he needed to take a shower. I saw red. He’s lucky this is all via text at this point because I was furiously cussing in multiple languages at this point.
Didn’t plan on a part three but here we are. See you soon.
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