Drip, drip, drip

You know the worst thing you can hear as a homeowner? Yep. Drip. Drip. Drip. Apparantly, I have bad water karma. About four weeks ago, I woke up for work, and I heard this dripping noise, and was like, "Is it raining?" No. Because, normally? It doesn't rain inside the closet where your hot water heater is contained. But then I could see the leak, where it was coming from, and I figured out pretty fast that it was my pressure release valve. And this was something, while annoying, and initially panic inducing, I could take care of.

But tonight? I came home and was checking something on my phone, and suddenly I felt/heard this drop of water. In my bedroom. Coming from the ceiling, where no water should be coming from. I looked up, and saw a drop of water form on my sophet, pool up, and the drop down. On my antique cherry desk, which my parents refinished and gave to me for my birthday when I turned twelve. This is not a minor thing. So, I sort of panicked, as this was really beyond me. The PRV? Call a plumber. It's in my unit. I own it. This is something I need to take care of.

But dripping from above? Where I don't have a water line? Yeah, this is something from my neighbors upstairs. So I went upstairs. And my neighbors? Seem to be gone. For...who knows how long. A week? Two weeks? A month? Who even knows when they went away? But...yeah, I'm pretty sure my water is originating there.

And yes. I panicked, pretty hard. I'm not sure what to do. It's my problem, but...also not. I mean, it's coming into my house, but it's not my water line. So I called my brother, and no one was there. And then I called my sister-in-law's phone, and she didn't pick up. And then called my dad (who promised, cross my heart, honest injun, that he would have his phone on this weekend while he and my mom are in Rochester). Yeah, no one is picking up their phone. My dad's phone isn't even ON (we'll address the topic of "My Dad, the Phone Liar" in a later entry). And I'm supposed to be meeting people for a movie at the Cinema and Drafthouse. So I had to get in touch with my friends and be like, well, I have this problem. They were awesome, and totally threw over the plan to drink cheap beer and watch Batman Begins at the Cimena and instead come to my house and drink cheap wine and watch This is Spinal Tap.

My sister-in-law called me back and managed to mitigate the panic (which, of course, took the form of crying. I'm such a girl), and advised me to punch a hole in the sophet, put a bucket under it, and chill, because I can't do jack shit about it until my neighbors, source of the leak, come back. Then I called my management company, and my property manager, who was working late, basically said, you can't do jack shit until they get back, and you did the right thing by punching a hole in the sophet and putting a bucket under it, so chill. We'll deal with it.

Sigh. Being a homeowner, as much as I usually don't mind it, sometimes sucks like a bitch.

On the other hand, I drank some red wine and watched me some Spinal Tap, and effectively got my mind taken off of it. But still. Not what you want to come home to.