For the second day in a row our water has been turned off. I couldn’t give Liam a bath again. I have piles of today’s dishes by the sink. I’d planned to do Liam’s laundry tonight. If we need to go to the bathroom we’ll have to knock on the neighbours’ door. Why? Because the downstairs neighbour tried to use her washing machine last night, knowing that the connection was jerry-rigged yesterday to temporarily stop the leak that had been going on for some time. (But whenever a puddle would appear in our garage, it was, “No, nothing’s wrong in my apartment”. Why she chose New Year’s Eve to call the landlord and tell him about this ongoing problem, I will never know.) The jerry-rigged plug was jarred loose, and there’s water all over the garage floor again. HRH checked it, and sure enough, using the washer had broken the temporary seal and water was leaking once more. The only way to stop it was to turn off the main water. The landlord’s back and trying to fix it now.
She also left the washing machine on all night. It was jammed, and the humming was so loud it was vibrating our floor. It’s a miracle that she didn’t burn out the motor. (If she had, it might have solved a lot of problems.)
I know she’s not all there, and I have had great tolerance. But my patience is really, really running out.
LATER: We have water again. The leak has been fixed. Her washer has been unplugged and she has been explicitly forbidden to use it until a repairperson has looked at it.