10:35 p.m. January 1, 2017
If you have read blog “Neighbor Part II” you are up to speed as to where this story is going to pick up. I don’t write like George Lucas and give you Part IV, V, VI, and then dovetail back around to I, II, and III. (don’t get me wrong, I LOVE Star Wars.)
Note the usage of the p.m. Yes, I am speaking of night time. Time when you are quiet. Time when I should not be listening to the sounds of anything coming from upstairs.
Monday, January 2 is a holiday for me, so I am taking advantage of the opportunity to stay up late. Sitting at my desktop surfing the internet, while watching/listening to a British documentary on Netflix about swingers, (another blog entirely) and I hear what sounds like drops of water falling.
I listen for a moment, and the sound continues.
My investigation leads me to my bathroom, where water is dripping from my ceiling, above my wall mounted cabinets. Yes, Deanna does have her water running in the tub, and come to think of it, it has been on for a while.
I grab a bowl and place it under the worst drip. Suddenly, water begins pouring from my ceiling vent. Off I go to get the largest, empty container a non-hoarder can have.
That container goes on the floor. As it collects the steady stream of water, I phone the After Hours office number. Is it an emergency? Hmm, water pouring into my bathroom from the upstairs apartment constitutes an emergency. Push 2. Leave message.
10:55 p.m. Water has been turned off upstairs and has stopped draining into my bathroom. My floor is wet, and the containers have water in them.
11:00 p.m. knocking at my door. It’s the maintenance man. I walk him to the bathroom and he immediately sees the problem. He informs me that he is going upstairs to find out what is going on.
Upstairs he goes.
Loud knocking. No response.
More knocking. No response.
Very LOUD knocking. No response.
Maintenance man comes back downstairs. Neighbors with large cardboard box are in parking lot looking around, and wondering what in the hell is going on. Looking up, they all see Deanna sitting on her patio, head down, and headphones on.
Maintenance man: Hello?
Maintenance man: Louder. Hello? Hello? Ma’am!
Neighbors literally begin throwing cardboard box up at her railing. Repeatedly. I can hear it hitting the railing.
Maintenance man: VERY LOUDLY. HELLO?! HELLO LADY! (I know, I hear Jerry Lewis in my head too)
I kid you not, the male neighbor has a flashlight on his person, and begins shining it up at her.
Ah, finally, she notices the crowd of 3 trying to get her attention. (I will note here that I am observing all this from my front window)
Maintenance man: I need to come up and look in your apartment. There is a water leak and I need to check it out.
Again, he goes upstairs.
A few minutes pass. I hear him coming back down the stairs.
Knocking on my door.
Maintenance man: “Well, she said she didn’t overflow the toilet, and she didn’t fill the tub. There is a counter full of empty beer bottles, and she seemed more than a bit incoherent. Her bathroom floor is wet, and towels draped over the side of the tub are soaking wet. I think she overfilled her tub. She is a mess, so I didn’t feel comfortable staying up there. Leave your containers out tonight to catch any drainage, and I will talk to the apartment manager tomorrow about this situation.”
Lovely. This could explain her multiple declarations of love for me…
About an hour later, it sounded as if Bigfoot, and 8, overweight & drunk toddlers, collapsed above my living room. I haven’t heard much from her since then, but the little bit I have heard, leads me to believe she didn’t kill herself in the fall. Ironically, the former neighbor across from me did indeed die after a fall in his kitchen, so my thought process isn’t as far fetched as you might think.
This tenant is proving to be fodder for much blogging. And anger. Frustration. Annoyance. Etc., etc.
I am considering putting 1-800-CHOKE-DAT-HOE on speed dial.
Praying for tolerance –