Just when the neverending saga of the leaks into my ceiling was about to end, it neverended. Tonight I came home to the above, a big blister of water that had leaked into my ceiling right in front of my bathroom. At least it doesn’t have any bookcases under it this time.
More pics after the tweets.
- RT: @Metafrantic: Interesting post about building Consensus (in fiction and RL) by @yksin http://bit.ly/bVbj7P // Thx for tweeting my post! in reply to Metafrantic #
- RT: @adndotcom: AK govt workers whose personal info was lost will get letters about what happens next. http://bit.ly/9xOCm9 // I’m waiting. #
- Yet another leak making a big water-filled blister in my ceiling. [gnashing of teeth] Will this ever end?!!! #fb #
Some more views of the big blister. Really — the damn thing was as big as the light fixture. Looks like there might be a couple smaller blisters forming up just inside the bathroom, too.
I don’t know if this is from another leaky pipe, or if the upstairs neighbor’s toilet went wonky again. I just want it oooooooover!
So I called my maintenance guy Jon to let him know I was going to drain the blister, but I still had, y’know, yet another damn leak. He said he’d stop by tomorrow to take a look, but probably wouldn’t be able to fix it until Tuesday. Okay. He suggested I also poke a hole through the ceiling proper so whatever was leaking could drain out into the bucket I have on the floor under this. Okay.
But there turned out to already be a hole.
Frakkity frak frak frak.
No, please don’t helpfully tell me to move. I hate moving. I like the location where I live, close to several bus routes & within walking distance of places I like to go. It’s also a pain to get a place in Anchorage that takes pets. And doesn’t have stupid damn carpeting.
I just want it to be ooooooooverrrrrrrr!
At least it’s not over a bookcase, at least I don’t have to shove furniture around this time. Meanwhile, I’m still waiting for the other maintenance guy to fix the last holes in my living room ceiling, so I can put living furniture where it belongs.
This is the second winter with leakage problems. I reckon that winterizing my apartment means: shoving my furniture into the middle of the room & laying down a lot of tarps.
Whinge.
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Okay, I won’t helpfully suggest that you move, Mel. I will unhelpfully suggest you move! This house is damned and you its passenger. Yes, you bought a ticket, but start the long, difficult process of looking for another home. You can do it. Try Craig’s list for starters and only with the places that give some decent photos.
No carpets, you have pets, but do you pay your rent on time, month after month? Got proof? Put it all together and put your own life together as well. I’ve started a library, Mel–me!–and I sometimes I just lay awake in bed looking at the titles thinking of the words and ideas I’ve encountered in those wonderful books. I would HATE to see them rained upon and you’ve had that happen, how many times????
I know you pretty well, Mel. You’re in a leaky, dripping CAVE and you are its goaled cave-girl.
There, I’ve done what friends must do. I’ve stated the obvious. You’ve made your bed. Now pick it up and walk.
Love, always.
J.
(in a home where we have rising damp!)
As your dearest friend, I too would highly recommend this process. I would probably help you do it. I never could breath in that place as you well know. It was trying to kill me whatever demons your immune to.