The Flood

Dear Condo,

You are on notice! Major plumbing problems? On top of everything else? Why do you hate me?

I took you in (well, literally speaking, you took me in, but that's not the point), changed your lurid wall colors to normal, resale-friendly colors that don't make people's eyes bleed, replaced eleventy-zillion broken appliances, and kept my poor dog confined mostly to one room so that he would not rip you to shreds. And this is how you repay me: soapy water overflowing from the toilet when I try to run the dishwasher or washing machine (hmmm.... On that note, I hope this is not the straw that causes me to have to buy a new washing machine).

I am disappointed, Condo. I am beginning to think that you are enjoying this sort of abusive boyfriend role you are playing in my life. You could have at least waited until after my crazy work deadline passed to spring this on me.

I'm beginning to wonder if I should start seeing other domiciles, Condo. This just might not be working out.

Not-so-lovingly yours,
Jane