tavie.com

Did I mention that a couple of days ago everyone in our household woke up at 8 am to the sound of something that can only be described as a jackhammer coming from the apartment above? If it wasn't a jackhammer it was something remarkably like a jackhammer. I don't know what people would be using a jackhammer on in a cheap, paper-thin-walled, wooden-floored apartment, but it was most definitely there.

Well, tonight. Tonight as in about half an hour ago. Kirsten and I were both having trouble sleeping tonight and luckily for us she got out of bed around that time, thirty minutes or so ago. Just as I was beginning to approach the early stages of sleep, I heard her go, "What's that sound? Do you hear that?" And I believe I said, "PLEASE let me sleep" and then she yelled "TAVIE COME HERE" and do you know why?

I'll tell you goddamnedmotherfucking why. It's because the GODDAMNED WALL WAS LEAKING. THE GODDAMN WALL WAS GODDAMN LEAKING. This isn't a wall that is connected to a bathroom or a kitchen or anything with pipes. This is the wall against which our bunk beds sit. On the other side of this wall is the hallway where the doorman-buzzer-phone is. The fucking wall was gushing water. Or whatever it is between gushing and dripping. I can't think of words right now because I am very upset. But it was more than a drip, I'll tell you that.

We got most of the books and shit away and pushed the bed away from the wall but we used up all the newspapers in the house and it's hard to tell right now what's been ruined.

Kirsten called the doorman and finally got him to understand that it's not an air conditioner or anything in our apartment, and that our apartment was, in fact, flooding. The dripping sounds only ceased a few minutes ago which is why I'm blogging right now, because as of yet no one has been to our apartment to tell us what the fuck's going on. The doorman isn't at his station and I actually went upstairs and banged on the door of the apartment above us, but either they aren't home or their goddamned jackhammer has DEAFENED THEM.

Although if they're not home I'd like to know how the handyman got the wall to stop leaking. Telepathy?

Anyway, so there's nothing we can do now but wait. We went down and no one's at the doorman station. We called emergency maintenance and the fucker said in the calmest, nasalest, most ANNOYING voice possible, "Yes, they know about it." That's all he said. Not "they're on their way" or "it'll be a few minutes". Just "they know about it." What the fuck are we supposed to do? Kirsten is pacing and I'm blogging.

I hope the water's not septic. I can't wait to get in the shower. Please let someone come soon so I can take a shower.
It's almost four in the morning. I'm going to cry if someone doesn't show up soon. Why's this shit happen when my parents are away? One time I set the kitchen on fire and our parents were on a cruise then too. Whenever they get on a ship all hell breaks loose here.

Update: The doorman and the maintenance guy just showed up with a giant vacuum thing, which wasn't necessary. Then they left. Didn't even go into the apartment. As they were walking down the hall I called after them, "Uh, what happened?" Because if I hadn't asked they wouldn't have offered the following explanation: "Hot water faucet wasn't turned off."

As I was closing the door I saw a man appear down the hall at the stairwell and ask the handyman something, because "there's still dripping upstairs from the toilet area".

The toilet area? Does that mean that I'm wallowing in piss right now? Just tell it to me straight. Hot water faucet or toilet?

There are no answers. I'm going to have to kill someone.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:53 AM | shower me with attention