Apartment Insanity

As of late we have had a few issues around the apartment. And it's funny because there haven't really been many major issues since I've lived there, but we had some major issues all at once in the last week. Ok, so we've always had an unfortunate drainage in our bathtub. Even living with Lindsay, every couple of months we'd have to call the building supervisor (Maria) and have her declog it so it could drain properly. But Kathy and I started having real issues about a month ago. I was just lazy and dealt with ankle deep water while showering for a month. I know, I know, it's lazy to not call, I acknowledge that. But when I was knee deep in water, that was just too much.

So I called Maria. Knowing the frail state of our bathtub, she basically half laughed at me and half scoffed at me, but came that day and "fixed" it. It still didn't really drain all that well, but at least it wasn't knee-deep water. Until 3 days later, when it just literally stopped draining altogether. Like I would come home from work and the tub would still be half full. This was problematic. Not to mention gross.

And then the added little factoid of when we turned on the sink, the water would come back up into the tub. Also gross. When we discovered this phenomenon, we both had the same thought process, our eyes got really big, and I ran over to the toilet to flush it, just to check. THAT would've been just too much... oooh I shiver thinking about it. Oh, and did I mention that we had to hand-bucket out the water from the tub? And that one day in all this fun-erificness we had no hot water? It was a special week of mornings, let me tell ya.

So the plumber came, apparently. And he was kind enough to leave the contents of what was clogging our bathtub in the toilet for our viewing pleasure when we arrived home. Was he trying to prove a point? Like "Ohhhh haha, look at all this nasty shizzle that was in your pipes! Hardy har har." What are we, six?

Anyhow, then we were free and clear, showering like normal human beings. Even if we had a nasty nasty amount of debris/dirt/hair/disgustingness to clean up in the tub.

Flash forward to this past Saturday and I'm on my way out the door to go see Spring Awakening. Only I can't get out. The doorknob won't turn. At all. Like I literally cannot get out of my own apartment. Soooo I call my building supervisor, whose son comes over to open it from the outside. And he says, "Oh yea, this happened to me the other day when I was helping out with your tub, I got locked inside your place too." Gee, thanks for taking care of that then. Really helpful of you.
So I say, "Ok, so... can we get it fixed?" He looks at me in complete surprise as if this is the first time he's considered such an option and responds "Oh, yea, I guess."
For serious? Dude, do you want to come and open the door for us every time we get locked in here? Or should we just duct tape the door open? We are real adult human people, this is not a college dorm!
He informs me that we might be able to get someone by Tuesday. It is Saturday. And did I mention we live in New York friggin City? You're telling me there is not a single locksmith who is working before Tuesday?
So I say to him in the most polite and respectful tone I can muster, "Ok, great, well would you just give me a call to let me when you've scheduled the locksmith? Thanks."

Thanks a million.

So they apparently find a locksmith (wonder of wonders) and come back the same day, and Kathy is home to greet them (I love her, by the way, she is the queen of eye rolling and has approximately ZERO tolerance for people's BS. Zero). They ask Kathy where the screws were for the door plate thing-a-majig. To which she responds, "There never were any screws." Now, given that Kathy just looks and exudes "Big Fat Liar," I can understand why they wouldn't simply believe her but instead argue with her, trying to convince her to go get the screws that she most certainly has hidden away somewhere.

But then the locksmith takes the door plate off only to see that (wonder of wonders) there are no holes in the door, thereby indicating that there never in fact were screws. Hmmmm, funny. I wish I had been there to see her face. And the non-discreet eye rolls that I so adore.

So now we have screws in our door plate. And the handle turns. Oh, and we also now have a functioning bolt, because sometimes that would get stuck and not open all the way. They WD40ed that sucker.

Given that things happen in threes, I was just waiting for the third. With bated breath. And sure enough, I get back from my run on Sunday and Kathy informs me that there is no hot water. Again with the freezing cold crapola. Thankfully I was sweaty and hot, so it was alright. But Monday morning? You guessed it, no hot water. Let's talk about starting your week off with a freezing cold shower and the type of day that sets you up for.

But I smiled because, hey, we've had our three things, we're done for awhile. We can live in peace for awhile. Right?
And then there was a funny smell in the apartment when I got home last night...