[Objection is so cliche]
This apartment is carnival of home-repair nightmares.
Saturday night I stumbled to bed at 4:30 a.m. and stepped in something wet at the top of the stairs. Repulsed and imagining it was either cat pee or vomit, I flicked on the light and saw that it was water, dripping from the ceiling. It had been raining all day, so I figured that it was just a random leak. But it was dripping from a softball-sized bulge in the ceiling. I'm practically useless, so I put a cup under the drip and went to bed.
I mentioned the leak to Phil, who was already asleep, but he didn't much acknowledge my presence. But as I was dozing off, I became annoyed by the constant dripping sound, so I got up to check it out again. Phil got up too, and poked his head up into the attic door, which is right beside the leaking point, to see where the water was coming from. Turns out it wasn't rainwater, but a leak from the air conditioner's drain pan.
Phil took the MagLite and poked at the bulge in the ceiling until it cracked a bit and drained water all over the stairs. I couldn't stop myself from thinking of it as lancing a boil. Then he stuffed a towel into the leak area in the attic to try and absorb much of the water before it dripped through the ceiling. Keep in mind that we were both practically sleepwalking at this time, so I have no idea what awake, rational people might have done to stop the problem. (Not that we're rational when we're awake.)
We went to bed, fairly confident that our temporary remedy would be enough to last until the maintenance people could avoid us Monday. But when we woke up, two basketball-sized chunks of ceiling popcorn and sheet rock had fallen and crumbled all over the stairs and the floor. And it was still dripping. Last night a little more fell, so now there's a huge ghetto hole in our ceiling. You can't see through to the attic, thankfully, but I'm betting if one more layer falls, we'll be able to.
It only took two calls and one threat to talk to the manager (all within three hours) to get someone out here to look at it. Supposedly, the guy fixed the drain pan problem, but it will take three days for the sheet rock to dry out enough for them to patch it.
So add that to the list of other random things that have gone wrong with this apartment.
The short list:
• bloody rag found in the garbage disposal
• dishwasher discharge tube released its contents into the cabinets
• hot water rattles the building when it is turned off or on in the kitchen
• washing machine leaked down into the kitchen light
• upstairs toilet is unflushable because it leaks into kitchen cabinets
• shower's soap dish broke off
Between my leaks from above, Aunt B's leaks from below, and the gulf region's recent water problem, I'm beginning to rethink my hunch that the world will end in a fiery blaze. Water is much more subversive and will be plentiful once the polar ice caps melt.
+++
Just got a call from my boss. I'm overtime-bound at 4 o'clock.
Saturday night I stumbled to bed at 4:30 a.m. and stepped in something wet at the top of the stairs. Repulsed and imagining it was either cat pee or vomit, I flicked on the light and saw that it was water, dripping from the ceiling. It had been raining all day, so I figured that it was just a random leak. But it was dripping from a softball-sized bulge in the ceiling. I'm practically useless, so I put a cup under the drip and went to bed.
I mentioned the leak to Phil, who was already asleep, but he didn't much acknowledge my presence. But as I was dozing off, I became annoyed by the constant dripping sound, so I got up to check it out again. Phil got up too, and poked his head up into the attic door, which is right beside the leaking point, to see where the water was coming from. Turns out it wasn't rainwater, but a leak from the air conditioner's drain pan.
Phil took the MagLite and poked at the bulge in the ceiling until it cracked a bit and drained water all over the stairs. I couldn't stop myself from thinking of it as lancing a boil. Then he stuffed a towel into the leak area in the attic to try and absorb much of the water before it dripped through the ceiling. Keep in mind that we were both practically sleepwalking at this time, so I have no idea what awake, rational people might have done to stop the problem. (Not that we're rational when we're awake.)
We went to bed, fairly confident that our temporary remedy would be enough to last until the maintenance people could avoid us Monday. But when we woke up, two basketball-sized chunks of ceiling popcorn and sheet rock had fallen and crumbled all over the stairs and the floor. And it was still dripping. Last night a little more fell, so now there's a huge ghetto hole in our ceiling. You can't see through to the attic, thankfully, but I'm betting if one more layer falls, we'll be able to.
It only took two calls and one threat to talk to the manager (all within three hours) to get someone out here to look at it. Supposedly, the guy fixed the drain pan problem, but it will take three days for the sheet rock to dry out enough for them to patch it.
So add that to the list of other random things that have gone wrong with this apartment.
The short list:
• bloody rag found in the garbage disposal
• dishwasher discharge tube released its contents into the cabinets
• hot water rattles the building when it is turned off or on in the kitchen
• washing machine leaked down into the kitchen light
• upstairs toilet is unflushable because it leaks into kitchen cabinets
• shower's soap dish broke off
Between my leaks from above, Aunt B's leaks from below, and the gulf region's recent water problem, I'm beginning to rethink my hunch that the world will end in a fiery blaze. Water is much more subversive and will be plentiful once the polar ice caps melt.
+++
Just got a call from my boss. I'm overtime-bound at 4 o'clock.
posted by theogeo | 9/26/2005 12:58:00 PM
2 Comments:
Dude, I think your apartment was built over a graveyard, and they only moved the tombstones. Keep away from the light.
That bloody rag was awesome.
Your apartment is on its period.
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