So.... angry...
Last night I went to bed early with a headache. By 11:30 I was sound asleep. By 4:10 I was awoken to screams of Weber standing on the landing screaming "Everyone get the fuck up, get the fuck downstairs, right fucking now! Get the fuck up!!!" I woke up like a shot, freaking out that someone had broken in and trashed the joint, there was a fire, someone drove through the front of the house, something other than what happened. What did happen, I found out when I ran downstairs, was that water was running down from the ceiling right inside our dining room. "Someone left the fucking sink on and it flooded down here!"
Whoa, step back. Someone left the sink on?! The sink had a slight clog, so it took a little while to drain, but who would have thought that someone would leave it on long enough to flood the basin, let alone the whole fucking bathroom. How do you even do that, leave a sink running and just leave? The bathroom is basically a closet, it's hard to ignore anything in it that isn't on the floor, and you'd definitely hear the splash of water on water as you were in the room. Of course, this was not me, a normal person with two eyes. It was also not Weber, who had not used the upstairs bathroom since getting off work at 1am.
There were pots and bowls on the floor to catch the running water and the carpet had holes where it had obviously been dripping for a little while. I found out later that the sound woke up Weber, who in turn woke us up. Becky comes down a few minutes later, sleepily asking what was going on. Gee, I dunno, maybe the fact that it's raining in our dining room. Suddenly Weber makes the realization that she hasn't checked the basement, where all of her stuff is. So she runs downstairs yelling, "It better not be dripping on any of my shit! Like my fucking STEREO SYSTEM!" The last words were louder because she saw that it was dripping directly onto her stereo. She stayed down there while I got towels and mopped up what I could in the bathroom and brought towels down to start trying and mop up the ceiling. Becky pretty much stood there and said "The scary thing is, I think this might be my fault." No shit, it's your fault, you irresponsible ass. "I never left the sink on before," she continues to say, but rage has completely blocked all sense of communication. I'm standing on a chair, trying to hold the ceiling together and stop water from pouring out and she is complaining that she has work in the morning. Oh boo-fucking-hoo, I have a test in the morning but somebody needs to do something and more often than not that person is me. I open the door to the basement to offer Weber a towel, but before I can say anything she screams up "Don't fucking come down here or I'll say some shit I don't mean." I backed off, because that'd get me yelling, too. Becky goes back to sleep because she's about as useful as tits on a boar hog and I manage to contain the leaks into one slow drip. The only problem is that the paint and drywall has gotten so wet the ceiling has started to sag, and while I'm trying to dry the thing, it busts open and drywall comes down. After a while, more and more drywall falls until it looks like someone shot the ceiling with a shotgun, exposing the ceiling completely in a 1.5" radius. Me and Weber stay up until 6:30 doing what damage control we can, until I go back to sleep for two hours. The basement turned out to be relatively fine, her stereo is most likely ruined, and it dripped on her amp, but that should dry. I wake up around 8:30, get dressed (without showering because I'm afraid to go into the bathroom in case it's not structurally sound) and tell Westland Gardens what's up so they can fix it. It looks like an entire section of drywall will have to be replaced and repainted, but the damage is minimal. Enough to piss me off for a few days, though.
If this voids our security deposit or ends up costing us money, Becky is paying it in full. I am so pissed I am thinking of terrible ways to get back at her. I won't- this time- because that would make things worse. But I swear to Christ that if she doesn't grow up fast and soon, I'm going to start punching her in the face on a regular basis.
Whoa, step back. Someone left the sink on?! The sink had a slight clog, so it took a little while to drain, but who would have thought that someone would leave it on long enough to flood the basin, let alone the whole fucking bathroom. How do you even do that, leave a sink running and just leave? The bathroom is basically a closet, it's hard to ignore anything in it that isn't on the floor, and you'd definitely hear the splash of water on water as you were in the room. Of course, this was not me, a normal person with two eyes. It was also not Weber, who had not used the upstairs bathroom since getting off work at 1am.
There were pots and bowls on the floor to catch the running water and the carpet had holes where it had obviously been dripping for a little while. I found out later that the sound woke up Weber, who in turn woke us up. Becky comes down a few minutes later, sleepily asking what was going on. Gee, I dunno, maybe the fact that it's raining in our dining room. Suddenly Weber makes the realization that she hasn't checked the basement, where all of her stuff is. So she runs downstairs yelling, "It better not be dripping on any of my shit! Like my fucking STEREO SYSTEM!" The last words were louder because she saw that it was dripping directly onto her stereo. She stayed down there while I got towels and mopped up what I could in the bathroom and brought towels down to start trying and mop up the ceiling. Becky pretty much stood there and said "The scary thing is, I think this might be my fault." No shit, it's your fault, you irresponsible ass. "I never left the sink on before," she continues to say, but rage has completely blocked all sense of communication. I'm standing on a chair, trying to hold the ceiling together and stop water from pouring out and she is complaining that she has work in the morning. Oh boo-fucking-hoo, I have a test in the morning but somebody needs to do something and more often than not that person is me. I open the door to the basement to offer Weber a towel, but before I can say anything she screams up "Don't fucking come down here or I'll say some shit I don't mean." I backed off, because that'd get me yelling, too. Becky goes back to sleep because she's about as useful as tits on a boar hog and I manage to contain the leaks into one slow drip. The only problem is that the paint and drywall has gotten so wet the ceiling has started to sag, and while I'm trying to dry the thing, it busts open and drywall comes down. After a while, more and more drywall falls until it looks like someone shot the ceiling with a shotgun, exposing the ceiling completely in a 1.5" radius. Me and Weber stay up until 6:30 doing what damage control we can, until I go back to sleep for two hours. The basement turned out to be relatively fine, her stereo is most likely ruined, and it dripped on her amp, but that should dry. I wake up around 8:30, get dressed (without showering because I'm afraid to go into the bathroom in case it's not structurally sound) and tell Westland Gardens what's up so they can fix it. It looks like an entire section of drywall will have to be replaced and repainted, but the damage is minimal. Enough to piss me off for a few days, though.
If this voids our security deposit or ends up costing us money, Becky is paying it in full. I am so pissed I am thinking of terrible ways to get back at her. I won't- this time- because that would make things worse. But I swear to Christ that if she doesn't grow up fast and soon, I'm going to start punching her in the face on a regular basis.