Nor is water supposed to come from my kitchen light fixture

Roto Rooter came over last night at 11:30pm when water started coming out of the light fixture in my kitchen. Okay, I get it! I’ve been blessed for too long and karma is out to get me. Fine. How much longer is this going to go on? The Roto Rooter guy said that, to fix the problem, they would have to turn off the water in the building. The tenants need to be notified of that, so there was really nothing further he could do. I also knocked on the fellow’s door above me (I always thought a woman was living up there?) to let him know that Roto was coming. We kind of had a laugh that I had been living in the building for over five years and we’d never formally met. He was kind of cute. And tanned. The Roto guy bounced between our suites, ironically not really doing anything, mostly just looking puzzled a lot. I think I could be a plumber. So far this is what I think it takes: the ability to cut a hole in drywall; and the ability to look concerned. I could do that. Then my neighbor came down to chat with me and the Roto guy. It’s closing in on frickin’ midnight, I’m in a baseball hat and yoga pants, I’m exhausted, my place is a mess and it appears that another day will pass with the problem getting worse and not better. My neighbor said that, to alleviate my hardship, he would cook me dinner. I kind of gave a half laugh and he said, “I’m serious”. Okay. Bring it. I will eat your dinner. Then I will ask for more. And I will take your leftovers. Hmmm, we’ll see what develops there.
I then had a fitful sleep while I rehashed how I effed things up with M and listened to the steady stream of water dropping into a bucket. Yay! When do the locusts come? Spoke to my insurance agent who said they can’t put me up in a hotel unless my place is “unlivable”. What the hell is unlivable? It smells like damp drywall in my place, I can’t use my kitchen, and both of my garbage pails are currently filling with dirty water. Oh, that’s totally copacetic.
Okay, this afternoon? I went into the kitchen to eat my lunch but there were no forks. So what, you say. I have a freakin’ salad. A coworker suggested a knife/spoon endeavor. I told him to go fuck himself and that I was removing him from the payroll system. Just kidding. I laughed and did a soft shoe shuffle for him. Goddamnit.
I’m looking forward to my date tonight. I have huge bags under my eyes, I’m stressed and totally exhausted and he’s some bloody philosophical wunderkind. My contribution to the conversation will be a mix of “so, how are the crab cakes?” and “sorry, could you repeat that? You’re using too many syllables”. Then I will fall asleep at the table. Quite probably I will drool. When the waiter inadvertently dribbles some water while re-filling our glasses I will scream and cry. I’ll furtively whisper, “Do you smell that? It smells like damp drywall”. Awesome.
Thank you sir, may I have another.