Tonight I ran a load of laundry. Sat in the office upstairs working and studying, never heard anything unusual. After a while I emerge, look down at the carpet, and . . . there is a GIANT wet spot. I mean gigantic. And it looks like it would have been bigger except the laundry pile of towels and blankets outside the utility door caught a lot of it.
Oh. my. God.
So I start grabbing towels and soaking it up. I don’t know what else to do. I just keep doing that and throw all the towels into the tub.
And then I get downstairs. The ceiling is dripping in one corner onto a bookshelf. Two feet away, a chair pad is wet in my dining room. There is a drip in my downstairs bathroom.
OH. MY. GOD!!
So I move things, grab buckets, all that. And then I . . . well, just who in the hell do I call in this situation? The apartment office is closed. I called and left them a message and put in an urgent service request online. And then I called C at work just to tell her about it because seriously?? The washer exploded.