Aah Sundays. Sunday=Fun day. It’s a day for relaxation. That’s great. It’s really great until shit hits the fan, and everyone is too relaxed to do their job!
If there’s no crying in baseball, there is certainly no designated day off for a property management group. I cried a little when Nolan Ryan retired, but that’s beside the point. Fans are allowed to cry. Players are allowed to cry (while no one is watching).
What is this lovely image? Could it be a long lost Jackson Pollock painting? Perhaps it’s a Longhorn cowhide rug.
No, no, my sillies. This is my bathtub. This is my bathtub on crack. This is the bathtub that I just scoured with bleach the other day. This is the bathtub that had a clog, and had industrial strength Drain-O applied to it. *Money back guarantee*. Man, I wish I’d kept the receipt.
The property manager was notified, but they were not able to make it out today. Too many mimosas with brunch?
Here’s the good news: They may or may not be able to send a plumber by tomorrow. We pay too little rent to stand for this! Hmm…our rent is dirt cheap, and our apartment is huge and historic.
Speaking of dirt. The sediment in our bathtub is red clay, not poop.
That’s a plus right? Pretty much everything is better than poo.