I swear, they should be illegal.
Just as I'm putting my shoes on to walk out the door, the phone rings.
Heart, meet stomach.
I was able to see on the caller ID that it's the apartment manager. The heart/stomach situation improved greatly, but all I could think was "WTF is the lady downstairs complaining about now? It's 6AM! We're NOT noisy in the morning at ALL!"
Apparently there's a problem with our bathroom. Bryan got a HUGE disgusting hair clog out of the drain yesterday, and now I'm wondering if maybe it took a chunk of really old, really rusted-out pipe with it, because when I took a shower this morning, water started dripping from a ceiling light fixture in the downstairs lady's bathroom.
The manager told me that they'd have to get in today to take a look at it, so no big deal. BUT... we're not having a stellar organization week and the place is a disaster, like to the point that a few minutes after I left the house, I almost turned around and took an unexcused personal day to clean before he got there. With all the garbage at work though, I decided against it and continued on my way. Poor Bryan though had the same thought but not as much work crap - unbeknownst to me until after the fact, he went in to work late and cleaned pretty much the whole place. He definitely gets the good husband gold star today.
I hope my shower's not too messed up.
Posted by beenie at April 27, 2004 11:14 AM