It's about time that I had one of those days and wrote about it...after all, that's what this blog is named for.
Follow me, if you will, back to two Tuesdays ago, when I was working my last night before heading down to Florida for ACDA and family visits. It was approximately 8 p.m. and I was the only hostess on at this point.
Enter random girl. She came running up the stairs and I swear to god she sneezed. I will forever claim that the noise she made sounded like mucus being expelled. And so I said, "Bless you," and she sort of looked at me with her hand over her nose and mouth and I was like, Oh poor thing, she snotted everywhere and now she has to run to the bathroom to go blow her nose.
Incorrect.
AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER, one of my coworkers came up to me and told me that the lady at his table said there was a problem in the ladies' restroom. And I said, "Those damn toilets. They really have to fix them." Oh how I wish it were the toilets. I can handle a good plunge.
So I walked into the bathroom and saw a few paper towels on the ground with a little wet spot underneath. And I almost picked them up but then I thought, let me see what's going on in these stalls, because that doesn't seem like enough to warrant there being a "problem in the restroom."
What I saw in the first stall will haunt me for the rest of my life. The toilet was filled (FILLED) with vomit, and topped off with about half a roll of paper towels that were spilling out over the edges. Now, I have a vomit phobia, so I got out of there real fast, but not before noticing the lovely chunks that were spilling out from under the paper towel pile on the floor. SO glad I did not pick those up...
Apparently the girl was just sick; she wasn't drunk or strung out or whatever. And I sympathize. But come on. I know it would be SO embarrassing, but you have to tell someone about that before it, you know, marinates in a public restroom for an hour and a half. The worst part is that, as we all know, paper towels don't flush, so the poor janitorial staff had to take all that shit out of the toilet. Stupid girl. I just feel like, a) we're all adults here, and we know the feeling of an impending barf, so go to the damn bathroom if you feel sick, b) we use toilet paper to wipe our mouths after. Toilet. Paper. And c) I repeat, TELL SOMEONE.
THEN. I got off work and came home like any other normal working night. It was raining, and when I came inside and went to the bathroom, I left footprints on the rug in front of my sink. I figured it was because my shoes were wet from outside.
Incorrect. Again.
About half an hour later, as my bladder is the size of my pinky fingernail, I had to pee again, and this time when I walked on my rug, it made a disturbing squish squish sound. And so I bent down to touch it and see what was going on and my whole floor was SOAKED. I mean, freakin' flooded. And then I noticed the drip coming from the corner of the cabinet under my sink. And I opened it up and the whole cabinet was drenched, including all my lady product boxes and my toilet paper.
Then I had to figure out a way to get my rug (which, by the way, weighed five pounds) across my apartment to the washer to put it on a spin cycle without ruining my floors and carpets in the process.
I should also mention that my sink had been leaking before this and had supposedly been fixed by maintenance already. It was not fixed. It was actually significantly worse. And even though they came to fix it while I was gone, when I got back yesterday there was still a little drip coming from underneath. Beautiful.
And now my washer is leaking also.
COME ON.
