Yesterday my landlord wanted to replace a piece in my toilet but what he got was the breaking of a pipe and the resulting flood. He called me from the bathroom, I got closer and what I saw was unbelievably fun and tragic at the same time. Half of his body was hiding behind the door, the other half was a concentrate of sweat and blood. While destroying, I mean working on the toilet, he probably hit something, maybe his own stupidity, and his forehead began bleeding. That concentrate of human desperation asked me to call the plumber while passing me his sweaty and wet cell phone. I did not want to touch neither him nor the cell phone but I realized there was something serious going on. Even the last hope that everything was fine disappeared when I took a peep into the bathroom: there was water everywhere, something like a lake with waves. I grabbed the cell and dialed the plumber's phone, unfortunately there was no answer.
That's when I really got nervous.
The landlord pretended to be in control of the situation and he decided to go downstairs and turn off the water. This was the only wise thing he did yesterday in my apartment. He came back with a new pipe and I thought that for sure we would have needed to go to a hotel for the night. I kind of liked the idea of making him pay for our night at the Sunset Plaza! I was wrong, he surprised me and ended up fixing the damage. Probably today we will have the plumber over to replace again the pipe which, according to our sharp landlord, is too small.
I am sick to have workers everyday in my apartment.
I cannot clean what they keep messing up.
They have no respect for people's things: they come with dirty hands, touch the pipes, get wet, spread water on the floor, step on the water, walk on the carpet with disastrous consequences for my mental balance! Luckily yesterday my sixth sense worked great: before the landlord started his work in my bathroom, I had put on the carpet a huge piece of nylon and there were no irreversible damages for the carpet (which we cleaned just ten days ago!).
When my husband came home and saw the landlord's bleeding forehead, he told me:
He is not so bad, he looks like Michail Gorbachev