"Hi, Neighbor!"

I was in a pretty good state of mind as I drove home from work yesterday. Nothing major had happened, the weather was beautiful, the traffic was light, and I had a book waiting for me. Yes, life was thick and rich (thanks, Dad!).

As I got out of my car, I noticed that my neighbor's door was flapping in the breeze. I figured that maintenance was, well, maintaining something, and wasn't too concerned. Then I noticed that my door was also open. I was ready to be seriously pissed of at the maintenance guys because I have a cat who has lately been itching to explore the great outdoors. If my fat little cat had escaped into the wilds of NE Philly, I was gonna rip someone a new asshole.

I walked through the half-open door. I noticed that the light was on in the bathroom and before I could drop my purse, an unfamiliar man walked out of my bathroom.

"I'm from maintenance. My name is John. We just tried calling you."

I pulled my phone out of its nesting place in my purse, and sure enough, I had a missed call from the apartment office.

"So, what's up, John? I asked.

John steps out of the bathroom and I step forward. My formerly neat and clean bathroom looks like a construction site. My towel, bathmat, and toilet seat cover are saturated with dirty ceiling water. I enter the bathroom and cast my eyes upward. Oh, hai naybur! i can haz ceeling, plz?

That is correct; my upstairs neighbors and I now share a bathroom. Droplets of water still fell from the sodden support beams. My neighbor's sad, dripping roll of toilet paper sits in the corner. Ew.

So I start laughing. Because, really, what else can I do? John and John the maintenance boys seemed concerned that I was going to go berserker on them, but I don't blame them. The neighbors had, on numerous occasions, reported that their bathroom floor was less than stable. It wasn't until John #1 pulled up the lino that the extent of the damage was clear. There was a kinked pipe leaking in the floor, and when the neighbor's floor came up, my ceiling came down.

The next two hours passed pleasantly enough. My neighbor and I sat outside, chatted, and smoked cigarettes. I was dying for a lager, but I had none. John and John managed to put down the subfloor and reinstall my neighbor's toilet (which had been sitting in her bathtub during clean-up. hey, maybe a new all-in-one shower/toilet combo? anyone?). The boys did a fairly decent job of cleaning up the mess, but I still had a job ahead of me.

I finally change out of my work clothes and set to work. First, I coaxed the cats out from under the couch. Even though I fed them lightly, Penguin still vomited up his dinner. Nervous stomach. Secondly, I took down the shower curtain and added it to the laundry pile. Then came the bathroom scrubbing. I couldn't stand the idea of leaving the bathroom in its dirty state, but it all seemed rather futile because John and John are just going to dirty it up all over again when they come back to fix the hole.

Moral of the story?

Fuck morals, I've got a giant hole in my ceiling.