The House That Broke Me

I've been MIA in bloggy land for good reason.  I have been reading, but just not very involved lately.  Our leak got so much worse on Tuesday.  I can't even bring myself to put pictures of it up.  This has now been going on for about a month and our property manager is not being very helpful.  If we owned our own home, we would have called a roofer by now and moved on, but living in a condo restricts what we are allowed to do considerably. 

I walked into the condo on Tuesday and all I heard was water pouring down.  The first thing I noticed was my brand new lap top sitting in a puddle.  I could have cried.  Then noticed the couch was soaking wet.  And this wasn't going to let up any time soon.  I called Matt and he immediately called our dimwitted property manager.  She sent over the maintenance man and he felt bad, but there was nothing he could do except for give me some big pieces of plastic to try and save the couch.

The computer stopped working that night, but by the morning it was fine.  I think it just needed to dry out.  We borrowed a de-humidifier and got the couch dry, but it looks terrible. 

We already closed the first claim with our insurance company, who were wonderful, by the way.  We called them back and they said to just wait on filing another claim because there is a huge chance that it's just going to keep leaking until it's fixed.  And we really don't want to keep paying $500 deductibles every few weeks.

To sum it all up, I hate it here, I hate this house and I want OUT.  I am ready to just try for a short sale (surprise, surprise, our condo is worth less than we owe) and get the hell out of here.  I want a house that I can fix myself and not have to rely on anyone else to do it.  I am packing up my living room today so that nothing else gets damaged.  I'm not worried about furniture, just my things with sentimental value.  Everything else can be replaced, but I can't replace old pictures and my things from the wedding.

Lord, give me strength.