Feeling: overwhelmed
Listening to: dryers blow
Reading/Watching: nothing

Today, a maintenance man was testing the washer-dryer connections in an empty apartment, and left the washer running while he went out to check on another job.

A tube popped loose from the water faucet, and hundreds of gallons of water poured over the floor, through the walls, and into four surrounding apartments.

I came home to find carpet cleaners running large dryers in the apartment next door, and soaked carpet in three of our downstairs rooms. Plus a puppy who was very excited to share her wet paws with me.

I took Allegra to a friend's house to stay for "an hour or so" while they dried out the carpet, until mon coeur got home and saw the extent of the damage, and "an hour or so" became "overnight." He and the maintenance man spent the evening moving all our furniture out of our bedroom, dining room, and closets, so the carpet padding could be ripped out and a large dryer installed to blow air under the remaining section which was pinned under a very heavy shelving unit.

The living room, kitchen, bathroom, so on and so forth are piled waist-high with displaced furniture and clothing. So basically, the entirety of our apartment is disrupted, including the upstairs guest bedroom in which we are now going to sleep, thanks to the futon we were smart enough to buy last summer.

This weekend, I was going to spend forty-eight solid hours curled on the couch, taking various cold medicines and watching season 7 of Buffy, sleeping as much as possible and trying to get my voice back (as it has once again been thrashed within an inch of its life). I was looking forward to being home. In my refuge. In my little private hole. With no pressure to talk to, encourage, support, or otherwise buoy up anyone but my own selfish little person, in efforts to let my pathetic vocal cords heal.

My voice teacher is quite angry with me, accusing me of overusing my voice in my job and not sufficiently protecting my health, risking long-term damage and jeopardizing my career as a singer.

I clearly remember e-mailing my curriculum teacher the last of my assignments this afternoon, and thinking, "Whew. There's one less thing to worry about."

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