Day of Disaster

Picture of water dripping from ceiling. This was taken AFTER the hole was cut in the ceiling and even more buckets of water fell to the floor - adding to the already existing three-inches.

In honor of my friend Kim's 30th birthday this week I thought I would write a fun little story about her. Kim, Liz and I were roommates for four years while I lived in Chicago. Liz got the swanky master bedroom and bath, while Kim and I had our own rooms but had to share the same bathroom.

One winter morning at 3am I here Kim knocking on my bedroom door. I pull myself out of a deep sleep and stumble to open the door. Kim leads me to our shared bathroom and points out the three inches of water covering our blue pool-tiled floor. I look up and see water steadily dripping from the overhead light (see above picture). So we proceeded to call our landlord...only to find that his cell phone was turned off. Certain that something needed to be done about our crying light bulb, we put on a coat, braved the frost of the winter air (this is a chicago winter I'm talking about), and walked over to the building of the on-site maintainance man. The problem was we couldn't remember his name so we couldn't buzz his door. So instead of possibly calling the wrong door we got it the car, drove the 1.5-miles to our landlord's house (at 3am) and knocked on his front door. I can only imagine what his wife thought when she opened the door to us in our pajamas greeting her on her front porch. To be honest I don't remember exactly what happened next. Whether she sent us home to wait until the morning or if she followed us to asses the damage and then told us to wait until the morning. Either way, this is what happened later that morning at the more reasonable hour of 8am.

The maintainance man rings the bell and Kim goes to answer the door. She turns the knob and makes the motion one does when they pull a door open. Only in her case she finds the door is still shut and she is now holding the door knob in her hand. Unable to open the door she has to explain to the mantenance man that she can't let him in ecause she is holding the knob in her hand. Through some instruction and some savvy mechanical skills, the maintainance man finally is able to enter our apartment.

Meanwhile, as the maintainance man is in the bathroom trying to asses the situation, the cable man shows up to install our cable. The poor, poor man. The cable plugs were in the corner of our living room behind a small tiled table with a green study lamp sitting on top. This man was not a pettite man...and I don't know why we didn't offer a little help by moving the table (perhaps it was the desaster taking place in the bathroom?). Next thing we know we hear crash coming from the living room. Kim and I run to see what the suspicious noise was only to find the not-so-pettite cable man on his hands and knees, the table top lying on the floor and shards of green glass surrounding him. Needless to say he was embarrased and felt horrible.

At that point, the only think Kim and I could do was laugh. It really was A Day of Disaster.

Happy Birthday Kim!