I seem to have been attacked by the stress monster this week, and she really, really likes cookies. And chocolate. And cake. Why isn't there any cake in my apartment?
Oh, right. There's no cake (or much real cooking happening) because there's been a leak in my kitchen for 16 days. The water's wet and dirty and smells really, really bad. And the property manger's inability to find and fix the source of the leak has made me crazy. Yesterday, thinking they fixed the dripping, a maintenance guy came into my apartment, moved some stuff around, and left. He didn't lock my door on the way out.
Now, if you've been reading around here for a few years, you know that I only live in this apartment because my previous landlord's work crew broke into my apartment and stole my stuff. And then somebody tried to burn down the building.
I don't fucking mess around when it comes to my safety and the safety of my stuff. And I am supremely pissed. And the anger is making me more than a little cranky. I can't have friends over, or really use my kitchen. I'm all stuffy from the mold and rotting wood caused by the leaking water. And I am beyond mad that any building manager or landlord thinks that going 16 days with dirty water leaking into my kitchen is at all ok.
Sorry for ranting. I feel a little better now. I reamed out the property manager over the phone today, reminding him that I only moved into this building because of the crime/theft/fire issues in my last one. The thing is, it was easy to leave that apartment. I wasn't too attached to it. But this place? I LOVE this place. And it's been my refuge during a really shitty year. I absolutely do not have the desire or the means or the wherewithal to move. But I'm not really sure I have any confidence in the management or maintenance staff right now. And without that, I'm not too sure if I can feel safe here anymore. And that makes me really, really sad.
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