Wet and Wild (Err.....okay, not wild)
My apartment is flooded.
I always enjoy my Saturday mornings, because deep down inside, I enjoy mornings. At least when I have coffee and don't have to work. Saturdays for me always consist of a routine.
That routine, and any personal joy of not having to work, was completely shattered yesterday.
I didn't notice it when I woke up and got changed. I didn't notice it when I left to get Starbucks. Nor when I came home. After sitting at my desk catching up on email and journals, for an hour, I noticed a peculiar dampness to my socks. I patted the floor. I was horrified. The carpet was soaking wet. Did I spill something? I walked around the rest of the apartment. The carpet, everywhere, was wet. I could hear water swishing and such underneath.
......
I fumed for the better part of an hour, chain-smoking and pacing to and fro. I told my landlord. Assured that somebody would be out to fix whatever the problem was immediately, I moved what furniture I could to the bedroom, where the floor was dry. A few hours passed, and nobody came out to fix the shit. And I had no intention of spending my weekend in a flooded apartment.
I called my landlord's office last night. I left a message saying something close to this:
As you know, my apartment is flooding. Perhaps you don't see this as seriously as I do.
That's a shame. I have disliked living here since I moved in last year...this complex is in serious disrepair and you don't seem to care. You lack honor, and integrity. Since my apartment is flooding, I'm going to find a hotel room for the weekend. You will pay the hotel bill. I fully intend to break my lease. I fully intend to have you removed as landlord. You'll be hearing from me, and from my lawyer.
I'm going to take you down. Good luck.
Soooo.... My friend Dave put me up for the night. I feel like I'm mooching off him, so I guess I've got some things to do today, don't I? Like wage a war.
I always enjoy my Saturday mornings, because deep down inside, I enjoy mornings. At least when I have coffee and don't have to work. Saturdays for me always consist of a routine.
That routine, and any personal joy of not having to work, was completely shattered yesterday.
I didn't notice it when I woke up and got changed. I didn't notice it when I left to get Starbucks. Nor when I came home. After sitting at my desk catching up on email and journals, for an hour, I noticed a peculiar dampness to my socks. I patted the floor. I was horrified. The carpet was soaking wet. Did I spill something? I walked around the rest of the apartment. The carpet, everywhere, was wet. I could hear water swishing and such underneath.
......
I fumed for the better part of an hour, chain-smoking and pacing to and fro. I told my landlord. Assured that somebody would be out to fix whatever the problem was immediately, I moved what furniture I could to the bedroom, where the floor was dry. A few hours passed, and nobody came out to fix the shit. And I had no intention of spending my weekend in a flooded apartment.
I called my landlord's office last night. I left a message saying something close to this:
As you know, my apartment is flooding. Perhaps you don't see this as seriously as I do.
That's a shame. I have disliked living here since I moved in last year...this complex is in serious disrepair and you don't seem to care. You lack honor, and integrity. Since my apartment is flooding, I'm going to find a hotel room for the weekend. You will pay the hotel bill. I fully intend to break my lease. I fully intend to have you removed as landlord. You'll be hearing from me, and from my lawyer.
I'm going to take you down. Good luck.
Soooo.... My friend Dave put me up for the night. I feel like I'm mooching off him, so I guess I've got some things to do today, don't I? Like wage a war.