Sometimes I love living in an apartment. Earlier this fall was one of those times.
That's when water started seeping into the bathroom, just in front of the toilet where the wall meets the floor. FYI: That's not the part of apartment living that I love. Please continue.
After the bathroom rug got soaked once, I replaced it with sections of the newspaper to try to track where the water was coming from. For a few days the bathroom felt (and looked) a little like the bottom of a birdcage.
The water definitely wasn't coming from the ceiling, and the toilet didn't seem to be leaking either. We thought maybe it was caused by the sink or the dishwasher in the kitchen, on just the other side of the wall. However, sometimes the floor would be completely dry even after we washed the dishes.
We couldn't figure it out. But then, we didn't have to. We called our landlord, who called a plumber, and voila. Problem solved. (And if you're curious, it wasn't the toilet, sink or dishwasher causing it. It stemmed from a problem elsewhere in the building.)
But sometimes I definitely miss having a home of my own. More particularly, I miss having control of a thermostat.
In this apartment, we're at the whim of the landlord and the outside temperature -- he's programmed the heat to come on when it reaches a certain degree outside. I don't know what that degree is, but I do know it's too cold. And the heat's sporadic. Sometimes it'll kick on just before I get up in the morning, raising the indoor temperature to a lovely 73 degrees before I leave for work. But when I get home, it'll be 66 degrees, with no sign that the radiators have been on for a long time.
So there's pros and cons. I sometimes wish again for the control that homeownership provides, but it's nice not having to worry about repairs and home values, too. But then again, since we still own our house in central Ohio, it often seems we have the worst of both worlds.
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