One night before I surrender the keys to my newly refurbished rental property ... I decided to check on things inside, just in case. Just in case nothing, because what could go wrong? All I needed to do was pick up a few errant items that I'd left behind. Left behind on purpose ... just in case.
I headed over to collect a step stool, a couple of paint cans, brushes and some curtain rods. Oh, and some toilet paper.
I opened the garage, stepped inside the back door and a wave of sandy water greeted me with force. Yep. Water. Everything was flooded and the smoke alarms were beeping in an obnoxious, out of sync rhythm. I was hatin' life, right then and there.
And thus, what should've been a five minute visit to the townhouse turned into a two hour event. I had to call and beg for a water technician from the city to come rescue me, which he did, but he was completely stumped as well as to why water continued to pour out of a kitchen wall even when he had shut off the water to the property.
I drove home as fast as I could and grabbed every dirty towel I could find. Dang, why did I do my laundry this week? I grabbed five, drove back to the townhouse and mopped and sopped for a good hour.
And you know what? This is not the first time this has happened. I had this much fun once before when a tenant started to move in in 2008.
No wait. This happened long before that. I vaguely recall this same event on my honeymoon. Water was shooting out of every wall socket in the room. Yep, St. Thomas in 1989 ... My honeymoon wins. The townhouse mess was easy after all, compared to that stinkin' honeymoon.
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