New York is wet

I'm sorry, babies - I'd blog all the time but the Monday-Tuesday one-two punch kind of takes it out of me. Today was already going to be a 12-hour drama, and that was before I woke up to the sound of a faint tapping on the hardwood, made by drops of water falling from the ceiling. I called the landlord and they called the super - note: my building only hires crazy useless old drunk Russian men (how many pleonasms can you fit in a description?) as supers. Did I tell you about the time he came over to fix my stove cuz the ignition was shot, and he drilled a hole into it, to "make spark closer to gas"?

Today he shows up, looks at the ceiling and says [Russian for "Uh oh"], then goes up on the roof for a few minutes, then comes back and suggests that maybe it's a pipe leaking (note to those not in NY: the city is a mess of snow, ice and rain, a lot of which has presumably accumulated on the roof of my 100-year-old building, right above my apartment), and that it's best to "wait five ten minutes see if stops."