The basement flooded. The sink attached to the washer assigned to us overflowed. B went down to get the load from the drier and switch the stuff in the washer to the drier. It was taking him so long I wondered what was going on.
So I went downstairs and expected to see him talking to Nasty because, boy, can she talk.
Nope! One more fucking thing. The floor was flooded and B was down there sweeping it up and out the garage.
I just texted Nasty to let her know what’s going on, because God knows B won’t do anything until all evidence is gone.
Fuck that. She’s gonna know, because this is not our shit. Her building, her stress and her responsibility.
Now he’ll be down there cleaning up the mess, utilizing his time that could be put to much better use, like searching online for another apartment to escape this bullshit.
I have no doubt it’s from something she neglected to take care of. I don’t believe it’s anything either one of us did wrong. But when I went down there, B was trying to come up with an explanation of how something we washed might have caused that.
I said loudly when he started to take blame like that, “Thirteen years in our house and we NEVER had a flood from the sink attached to our washer. It’s not our fault! We did nothing wrong.”
He went down there at 2pm just to switch out clothes. It’s almost 3pm.
I’m sure she’ll find a way to blame us for it though. Because she’s a blame shifter.
PS. The rent is going up next month.