Life After College: I’m Drowning

Yup. That's my bedroom.

I was just sitting in my bedroom last week Facebook stalking people “who I totally don’t care about” from high school when my bedroom floor started to fill with water.

Despite not majoring in investigative detective work, I was able to quickly figure out that the water was coming from our washing machine. My roommate switched it off, I slipped on my rainboots, and we got to work mopping up the mess. I thought we had cleaned the whole thing up and it was safe to go back to searching for updates on the high school prom queen (she’s in a committed relationship, he must be cheating on her!).

I was very wrong. The water kept leaking and before long it was coming under my bedroom wall. Nothing was safe in my room and despite my best efforts to build towel barricades, the water kept flowing. I immediately regretted giving away the snorkel I had stolen from a “scuba divers and sluts” party back from junior year. In under ten minutes my bedroom had transformed from an oversized closet with a bed to a set from the filming of Titanic Two: Jack’s Resurrection.

Things were getting more dangerous (for my shoe collection piled on my closet floor) by the second and our super was taking his sweet time coming upstairs. Finally he arrived, saw the utter chaos and said “I would have come sooner if I had known it was that bad.” As if my screaming into the phone “THIS IS THE END” and setting off SOS flares outside my windows didn’t send that message.

Unlike myself, my super is NOT a detective. His best solution was removing the non-stop-leaking washer from out apartment. It would wait downstairs in the basement until they could order a missing piece. In the meantime we would have to live with a soggy floor and without a washing machine. This wouldn’t have been so bad if I wasn’t already on my laundry-day underwear. All I had left after that was a one-piece swimsuit. Which, it turned out, was a blessing in disguise since it was the only appropriate outfit I could wear around my apartment-turned-swimming pool.

If only I was still in college; this would have made for a killer “life guards and slutty bikini girls” party.

Rethinking Those Daily Starbucks Runs…
Rethinking Those Daily Starbucks Runs…
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