I guess my habit of collapsing onto the commode has finally caught up
with me. One of the floor bolts has rusted through and the commode tilts
when seated and leaks when flushed.
I can't fix it; it needs a new bolt in the floor.
I've called the property "management" (sic) company and they notified
the plumber. I have no idea when/if I'll hear from said plumber before
the weekend. Lovely.
We may have to improvise.
Of course, as soon as I got everything done and settled for a little
nap, the plumber called. He says he'll be here in about an hour.
I suggested he make some noise outside my gate, so I'd know he was
there. He suggested he holler, "hey, Momma!"
I suggested that I'm not, like TA Russell's other female tenants,
trailer trash nor a prostitute, and that he might choose instead to
address me as "Ms. R." I also pointed out I ignore most
disruptions at my front gate, as my neighbors are all addicts and mental
patients, and I'm afraid of them.
TA Russell: hires only the best to enter a single woman's home with
tools that can crush skulls.
At any rate, barring any unforeseen circumstances (which, with this
place, there are, always), we may be capable of crapping in the commode
over the weekend, after all. I'll shoot an email if this seems not to be
the case.
What's your ETA? or are you hiding in your room tonight?
Now I know why my bathroom always stank and why I couldn't clean the
linoleum: it was saturated with sewage.
Oh, I'll need to buy bleach soon, too. Stadium grocery has it on sale
for a dollar a gallon this week.
I'm slummed out.
At any rate, I've told the secratary I'm thinking of moving by the first
of the year. I've also stipulated that, if they insist on charging me a
late fee for this month's rent and taking me to court if I won't pay it,
I may have to adjust my plans to move sooner. She'll pass on the
message.
I believe that, should I stand my ground, especially since they know I'm
planning to move relatively soon, anyway, they won't bother with the
expense of filing eviction papers with the court. It's pretty much just
a scare tactic.
I'm washing my nasty cleaning rags, pet blankets, etc. I have dishes in
hot water to wash. I'm now prepared to fiddle with computers while
everything else gets clean.
Heavy cleaning of nastiness makes me understandably grouchy, as I hate
filth, dust and sweat.
I will try to be civilized this evening, but I ain't makin' no promises.
I'd say another walk is in order.
-----------------
The toilet was never repaired on Friday. It's still disassembled and just hovering over the sewage pipe. The flange is broken and a REAL plumber is to come sometime on Monday to sledge hammer a larger hole in the floor, reset new concrete, install a new flange, replace the seal and reassemble the toilet.
The Two Stooges never returned and didn't leave word, either with Russell or with me, as to their whereabouts.
The first thing they did was threaten to kill my dog, sight unseen, when Raoul "warned" them I have a pit bull. When I questioned them about it, the "spokesperson" said he was only kidding. uh, huh.
They tore apart the toilet. Then, they announced they were going to their truck for supplies and would have to call Russell for instructions. Russell has told them this building makes no money and that he doesn't want much money for repairs put into it. So, they were going to recommend a simple, silicone seal around the base of the commode. Raw sewage would seep into the ground, onto the floor, that way and the seal wouldn't be able to withstand the repeated weight of people sitting on it.
They disappeared.
So, I called Russell, who yelled at ME, because my toilet was broken. He said the "plumbers" were on their way to a big box store for parts. They never returned.
On their way to their truck, Raoul offered them a "soft drink" aka a beer. I said, "Mr. Nieto, I have waited all day for these men to repair my commode so that I might deficate. Would you mind allowing them to finish their task without disruption before you offer to get them drunk?"
Later, Raoul was telling the new schizophrenic, the one who bangs on walls and pipes, screaming about how he's going to kill someone, that all "clit-sucking Lesbians" are satanic and must die.
Well, my girl came over at the tail of all this and stood, wide-eyed, in my livingroom. She said she thought nobody should have to live like this.
So, we're hunting apartments, mobile homes and houses.
Just like that.
So, my plans have changed again. I'm now packing, sorting, planning, calling prospective landlords, eating up canned foods, etc.
I'm still a bit stunned by it all. I'll have more to say, once I really wake up. But these are the basics.
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