Saturday night I was filling up my Brita water dispenser — as I do every night before I go to bed — and noticed water pooling up on the floor. I know I can be a little sloppy while doing the dishes, but I’m not THAT sloppy. After a little sleuthing I discover that my garbage disposal is leaking. Fortunately I’m not a hoarder so what little I had underneath the sink was easily moved elsewhere.

Of course the fear sets in. — How long will this take to get fixed? — How badly did I fuck things up? So Sunday morning I put in a ticket with my building’s maintenance team and let the fates take over from there.

Now will you believe me that in three hours someone came to attempt to fix it? Indeed that happened. Unfortunately they needed to replace my garbage disposal and said they were expecting a shipment in on Tuesday. That’s fine. I can deal with doing dishes in my bathtub for a couple of days. But really, I was thinking that they would forget about it and I would have to follow up later this week and that this would drag on and on until I just deliberately broke my lease and moved to like Palmdale just to be as far away as possible.

Well, will you believe me if I told you they came in this morning and replaced the motherfucker and that it works? No drippy, no stress, no anxiety. All fixed!

With the exception of the lack of closet space, this place ain’t bad.