now, with more details!

[rm]

So I'm lying in bed this morning, trying to wake up. Patty is sound asleep (it's not that I'm a morning person, it's that I'm a conquer the world on as little sleep as possible person -- I was like that as a kid, and when my Baz Luhrmann obsession kicked in a few years ago, I did a whole summer of only sleeping four hours a night, and my body clock never entirely recovered once I realized I was crazy).

I hear a sound. A little tick tick tick.

Is there a cat in the bedroom?

Is it a mouse?

I lean over the side of the bed to look around.

Nothing.

I twist back onto the bed, and lo, there is water dripping on my foot.

I look up.

There's a great giant plaster bubble in the middle of our ceiling staring at me like the maw of hell.

"Patty, get up, get dressed now, there's a leak."

Which then turned into several hours of rusty water, frantic phone calls, a casserole dish and a scissors, radiator repair on the empty apartment above us, emotional freakout and an episode of hypochondria (all me, Patty is pretty sane) and the sudden emergence of a very nice property manager who arranged for all the damage from this leak and the last to be repaired on Monday.

I'm tired, Patty's headed back to Ohio, and I've done no holiday shopping.

How the bloody hell are you?

Comments

[jesse_the_k]

My aqueous ceiling tumors (caused by ice dams) were simultaneously horrifying and beautiful. And mostly impressed me with the high tensile strength of latex paint.

You have my sympathies!