This morning I woke up and started to go into my bathroom. I was groggy and kind of stumbling 4 hours of sleep will do that to you.

I walk in the door and feel little droplets of water hit my face. Looking up I see that water is literally pouring from the fan. The floor is soaked, the counter is soaked. luckily we left our towels on the floor or it would have came out in the hall. 1 point for slobbery.

I panicked. I hate people in the apartment when my husband isn’t home. I start putting clothes on, trying to figure out what I am most comfortable in and then I call downstairs. The woman answering the phone sounded shocked and stunned. Seriously bitch please.. She calls maintenance and sends them down. I’m like great I finally did something on my own all adult like.

They knock at the door and swallowing I huge lump in my throat I answer and lead them to the washroom explaining what had happened. They explain to me that there is a leak on the top floor they are trying to find but they will gladly clean the bathroom. That is four floors of leaking down to our apartment.  That’s when I notice the dude had nothing but Windex and paper towels..  I hate this place.. This just makes it even more obvious.

I called my husband to make sure I was awake, cause sometimes my dreams are way to realistic and he said this to me after I told him about it. “The windows are fine, it’s the lake in the bathroom that’s the problem”.

Wish I had thought of it too damn sleepy though.

It did make me conquer something though and when I am depressed any accomplishment puts a bit of pep in my step.