It's our toilet.
A stubborn clog last night led to some midnight plunger action. Which, when it totally failed, led to some very vigorous midnight plunger action. Which, in turn, somehow led to a leaky seal in the bottom of the toilet.
Since it didn't seem to be what you could call an emergency, I notified the maintenance company when I got up this morning. The guy was relieved that the toilet wasn't gushing down the stairs and ruining his Sunday morning. Said he'd be by on Monday. Said "wrap a towel around the bottom of the toilet."
That's all well and good. But, see, I have some germ* issues. And this has not been easy. The skin on my hands is tight and itchy from
And now there is water dripping from the ceiling that is directly below the toilet.
Toilet water. Dripping. From. The. Ceiling. Basically, poo, coming right through the sheetrock, dripping into a bucket that I will now have to bleach, in a room that I am wishing I could saturate with Lysol.
Some germs I have come to terms with: germs that live in garden soil; germs you cultivate on purpose (yogurt, kombucha, sauerkraut); germs that kids I know have on their hands (stranger kids' germs are another whole story); germs that live on things in public; germs that live on my better-for-the-environment washable dishcloth. But toilet germs are definitely never in any way OK. Ever. I want to move into a hotel room and/or climb out of my skin.
The one relief is that I do not own this space, and it will not be me tearing out that toilet-water-soaked wallboard. I might otherwise have to boil my whole body to sterilize it, so I guess it works out for everyone that there is such a thing as a maintenance company, and they're coming tomorrow.
*germs are very loosely defined: actual germs, bacteria, ick, ooze, viruses, and fungi all qualify.