Brandon and I are probably going to move again this spring.
We really liked our current place until the neighbors moved in. You may remember them from an earlier post, where I complained like an old person about the level of noise those young college boys can produce. They have since obliged us and are much quieter (regular baked goods work wonders to sweeten such deals, it turns out) but they are no longer our biggest problem. Our place is falling apart; on New Year’s Day, Brandon and I heard the shower running upstairs. We couldn’t help but notice the water dripping down from their apartment into our bathtub. Water should never be coming in from the ceiling, I’m pretty sure. This is a problem, but what is more of a problem is that no one has done anything about it since we called, freaking out.
Our maintenance guy said someone would be over first thing in the morning, and we understood that no one wanted to come over on New Year’s Day to fix our problem. This made us believe it must not be an emergency as we originally thought. On the maintenance guy’s advice, we went upstairs and politely asked our neighbors not to use their shower until the next afternoon. They agreed and thanked me for the red velvet cake balls I’d left outside their door. However, no one showed up all day Saturday. Or Sunday. That night, I called our guy again and he promised to send someone Monday. Yesterday after work, Brandon saw two muddy footprints in our bathroom and that’s about it. We really hope they’ll be coming back to patch something up now that they’ve had a good look first hand.
We’re looking at an apartment this week. I really don’t want to move again.