We have a great apartment. It is, for the most part, awesome. Except for one tiny thing. When it rains outside, it rains inside. That’s right, we have a leak in our ceiling that seems to be unfixable. Many have tried and all have failed. Usually it’s a drip or two and the walls get a little wet. I say usually because last week our leak outdid itself and caused the paint to peel off the ceiling and walls in giant strips and caused the owner of the building to have to poke holes in the plaster to allow the water to pour out. My makeshift water-cathching bowls, cups and towels were rejected for a system he and I rigged together with buckets and trashbags and a giant funnel of sorts to catch the downpour in our living room. At the end of our work together we were both wet and covered in little dots of paint and plaster that had splattered us.

There was enough water to fill a five-gallon bucket and that was before we had the funneling system set up. That was just what I had caught in the bowls. I was going to take a picture of this all, but couldn’t bring myself to immortalize it all on film. It’s too horrible to ponder. Let me tell you why:

I hate puddles. How much do I hate puddles? Enough that for three years I have hated Meghan a little inside for the little puddle of contact solution she leaves on the edge of the sink everyday. Can you see this puddle if you aren’t looking for it? No. Has this puddle ever made my shirt or pants wet? No. And yet still, day by day, month by month, year by year it has driven me slowly crazy. Why did I never say anything? Well, I was at least smart enough to know that it was a stupid issue so I didn’t mention it until a few weeks ago when she mentioned something to me that drove her crazy so I felt I could reciprocate and I’m so happy to say that she has been cleaning her puddle like a champ since then. Anyway…

The point of that story is to let you see how much I am bothered by buckets and bins and bowls and cups of dirty ceiling water in my livingroom! AHHHH!!!

The hole was “patched” the next day but neither the owner of the building nor the guy who “patched” it could tell me if it was okay to remove the buckets and funnel. Grrrr…The roofer is coming by next week (next week?!!) to do an estimate on the work and then who knows when it will actually start! If I kill myself soon, know that it is due to this and not anger towards any of you. As an added bonus, we have had a freakishly wet summer and if it doesn’t rain everyday for the last month, it’s been every other day. This does not make me happy when I think about my “patched” ceiling and my sadly paint-chip-spattered living room. Not at all!

On the plus side, I think we can flip over our coffee table and use it as a boat to escape the flood if push comes to shove. Don’t worry, I’ll take Meghan and Maren if they are home at the time and we’ll help preserve the animals by taking Lady the turtle with us. Just like Noah did.