I want to staple a chicken to your door.
I have been out of town all weekend, the lights were off and the water did not run in my absence at any time in my apartment. Today I get a voice-mail from my apartment manager asking me if I have had any overflows of well. . .anything in my apartment. Because the fundamentalists downstairs are upset because apparently they have a leak. That’s nice. I don’t. But instead of thinking that perhaps the leak is coming from say, the roof via the walls, or perhaps one of the other four apartments that share walls and ceiling space with them they think its my apartment. This makes me feel special. s-p-e-c-i-a-l.
Anyways, I checked all the rooms of the apartment, both bathrooms, the kitchen, etc and I do not have a leak. But I am seriously annoyed. Um hello just knock on the effing door that is right next to yours and just effing ask me if I have a leak.
And here’s a clue, maybe the link came from *gasp* the storm we had today!
Game on neighbors. . . game on