Where are those hunky TV handymen when you need them?
I feel like I'm living in the middle of a home improvement project. You see, there's a mystery leak above my apartment that's creating regular rainshowers in my bathroom. As much as I like rain, I really prefer that it stay outside, where it belongs.
Another charming side effect of this leak is that water is getting into the wall between my bathroom and the bedroom. I can see the water stain spreading toward the electrical outlet that's on the same wall. Needless to say, I've now unplugged everything in there because, as some of you know, I've been known to sleep through fires in my building (ahem. A subject for a future post).
And since this building is nearly 100 years old (does that make it historic, or just... OLD?), there's only one electrical outlet in my bedroom. My apartment is grounding strip city...
Anyway, this isn't the first time I've had a leak like this, so that wall already has some water damage that's never been fixed. The handyman who's working on the problem this time tried to tell me yesterday that it's my little humidifier that's making the wall wet.
From the inside out? I'm no expert, and I may have been under the influence of tequila when we spoke, but I don't THINK so, dude.
In an attempt to find this pesky leak, he's now torn down all the plaster from the bathroom ceiling, leaving nothing but old exposed wood and little bits of whatever ancient bonding material was used to craft this building to fall down on my head and make a big fucking mess on the floor, in the sink, in the tub... and oh, did I mention, on my head? Do you know how creepy that is to stand under this torn-up ceiling and have little bits of it fall on you? It's a good thing I WAS under the influence of tequila when I came home last night, or I would have been even more annoyed by the spectacle that is my bathroom. (Imagine me drunkenly sweeping the floor in there. Imagine my surprise when I realized it had crap all over it again ten minutes later.)
As I sit here typing now, I can hear PLINK PLUNK PLINK PLOP PLOP
every couple of minutes.
And there's some odd cardboard-esque covering on my bedroom wall (is it ancient wallpaper? someone's lazy way of painting in ye olden times? what the fuck is this shit??) that the not-so-handyman has torn up, so my bedroom isn't exactly the comfy sanctuary it normally is.
Mark my words....if something happens to my velvet comforter cover, there'll be hell to pay!