Update, Part One: Movin' on out.
So I moved out in November and into a new apartment with my one roommate goalie_gurl, which was what started my winter blackout.
mightygodking and I had lived under the same roof for so long, we could have filed taxes jointly under common law. I'm likely going to have to marry and have kids to outlast that strange fact. I had originally figured I was going to move out next fall or winter, as after living with the same person for over four years things were becoming rather stagnant. I was letting myself get too wrapped up in problems that were too small. It's funny how, in the span that I've roomed with him, I've known people who've not just married, but who've divorced and then remarried. He's effectively my longest relationship… but without the love, sex, or any shared life goals. (unless you count milk & bread as a life goal… hmm.)
What sparked the move so early however, was our landlord. When we moved in, it took a little while to adjust to his micromanagement style of the building. It was a very old building for Toronto, 1920's at least. Apparently at one point it was owned by the Eaton family. I believe the real estate term would be "classic". It was heated by forced-water radiators, had a coal fireplace, a covered balcony shaded by a giant oak tree, and the kitchen was absolutely huge for a downtown apartment. (the way the building was designed though, it could've just as likely been another bedroom at one point) Anyway… the landlord, whom we'll call Mike so as to help people think that I've actually changed the name, had lots of little rules which took a bit of getting used to. Each rule made sense on its own, but they added up to a minor annoyance because we never knew they existed until after we'd broken them. Mike was a perfectly amicable guy, but he had the kind of temper where he would skip over being "annoyed" or "bothered" and go straight to "seriously pissed-off". The upside to this was that he wasn't one to let things stew, so problems were resolved quickly, if however intensely. Still, up until the end of the summer, things were more or less fine… and then they were very much not fine.
I'll try not to go into too much back-story here. We had a big claw-foot bathtub, so the shower curtain went all the way around the tub on an oval rod, which was anchored by the shower pipe and into the wall & ceiling. One night I slipped in the shower and, in order to prevent falling, grabbed the only thing within reach. Not surprisingly, the shower curtain rod wouldn't hold my weight, and I ripped the entire thing out of the wall, out of the ceiling, and snapped the connected shower pipe that was attached to the faucet, turning it into a hot water fountain until I could reach the taps. Brilliant. For a few days until a plumber could come in, we were stuck to having baths. When Mike showed me the water damage in the apartment below, (which used to be his mother's place, but she had passed away two years ago and Mike apparently didn't even want to move the furniture out, much less rent it to someone else) I wasn't surprised and offered to pay for the repairs, despite probably not being legally required to do so as it was just an accident. It did seem like a rather large spot on the ceiling below us, so I put a soap dish under the tub's drain to see if there was a leak. The soap dish would be full after having a shower, so we all made sure to keep emptying it after our morning bathroom rituals.
About a week after the shower was fixed, however, Mike called me at my day job and immediately started yelling at me. He railed at me saying how there was more water damage in the ceiling below, and he actually accused us of throwing water on the floor to intentionally damage the building in order to get out of paying for the repairs. He threatened to bring in a plumber to show he was right and would sue us for the bill, growling that we didn't know who we were fooling with. I sat there so shocked and taken aback that it took me a while to realize that I've worked a decade in customer service, and I'm well-trained in how to deal with angry people over the phone. I pulled myself together and had him explain what resolution he would like to see come of this, and asked how I could help convince him that I was sincere in wanting to reach that goal. By the end of the conversation, he was reasonably calm, and I had already decided that there was no way I was going to stay in that apartment any longer than necessary, much less another year. However, Mike and I both were still confused as to why there was more water damage. I called home and had mightygodking replace the soap dish with a baking dish that was large but shallow enough to fit under the drain. After my next shower I checked the dish and saw that it was full. Holy crap. I don't know why it didn't occur to me until then that there could be that large of a leak from our tub, but it didn't take much math in terms of bathroom usage to figure out it was the cause of all the water damage.
After much searching I discovered that it was the rubber seal which connected the water pipe to the outside of the tub that was leaking whenever the shower was turned on, and it trickled down along the tub and off of its drain, which is where we originally thought the problem was. The plumber Mike subsequently called in confirmed this, saying that the seal was simply old and needed to be replaced. As satisfying as it felt to be vindicated, I offered to pay for half the repair bill as I thought that this wouldn't be the last time he would get all paranoid on us, at least not before I was able to move out, and I needed a kind of insurance policy to show whomever (housing tribunal, judge, etc.) that I was always acting in the spirit of good faith. It turned out in the end that I didn't need to worry, as there were no other incidents before I moved out, but I still feel that it was a good move to obtain peace of mind, at a reasonable price.
mightygodking and I had lived under the same roof for so long, we could have filed taxes jointly under common law. I'm likely going to have to marry and have kids to outlast that strange fact. I had originally figured I was going to move out next fall or winter, as after living with the same person for over four years things were becoming rather stagnant. I was letting myself get too wrapped up in problems that were too small. It's funny how, in the span that I've roomed with him, I've known people who've not just married, but who've divorced and then remarried. He's effectively my longest relationship… but without the love, sex, or any shared life goals. (unless you count milk & bread as a life goal… hmm.)
What sparked the move so early however, was our landlord. When we moved in, it took a little while to adjust to his micromanagement style of the building. It was a very old building for Toronto, 1920's at least. Apparently at one point it was owned by the Eaton family. I believe the real estate term would be "classic". It was heated by forced-water radiators, had a coal fireplace, a covered balcony shaded by a giant oak tree, and the kitchen was absolutely huge for a downtown apartment. (the way the building was designed though, it could've just as likely been another bedroom at one point) Anyway… the landlord, whom we'll call Mike so as to help people think that I've actually changed the name, had lots of little rules which took a bit of getting used to. Each rule made sense on its own, but they added up to a minor annoyance because we never knew they existed until after we'd broken them. Mike was a perfectly amicable guy, but he had the kind of temper where he would skip over being "annoyed" or "bothered" and go straight to "seriously pissed-off". The upside to this was that he wasn't one to let things stew, so problems were resolved quickly, if however intensely. Still, up until the end of the summer, things were more or less fine… and then they were very much not fine.
I'll try not to go into too much back-story here. We had a big claw-foot bathtub, so the shower curtain went all the way around the tub on an oval rod, which was anchored by the shower pipe and into the wall & ceiling. One night I slipped in the shower and, in order to prevent falling, grabbed the only thing within reach. Not surprisingly, the shower curtain rod wouldn't hold my weight, and I ripped the entire thing out of the wall, out of the ceiling, and snapped the connected shower pipe that was attached to the faucet, turning it into a hot water fountain until I could reach the taps. Brilliant. For a few days until a plumber could come in, we were stuck to having baths. When Mike showed me the water damage in the apartment below, (which used to be his mother's place, but she had passed away two years ago and Mike apparently didn't even want to move the furniture out, much less rent it to someone else) I wasn't surprised and offered to pay for the repairs, despite probably not being legally required to do so as it was just an accident. It did seem like a rather large spot on the ceiling below us, so I put a soap dish under the tub's drain to see if there was a leak. The soap dish would be full after having a shower, so we all made sure to keep emptying it after our morning bathroom rituals.
About a week after the shower was fixed, however, Mike called me at my day job and immediately started yelling at me. He railed at me saying how there was more water damage in the ceiling below, and he actually accused us of throwing water on the floor to intentionally damage the building in order to get out of paying for the repairs. He threatened to bring in a plumber to show he was right and would sue us for the bill, growling that we didn't know who we were fooling with. I sat there so shocked and taken aback that it took me a while to realize that I've worked a decade in customer service, and I'm well-trained in how to deal with angry people over the phone. I pulled myself together and had him explain what resolution he would like to see come of this, and asked how I could help convince him that I was sincere in wanting to reach that goal. By the end of the conversation, he was reasonably calm, and I had already decided that there was no way I was going to stay in that apartment any longer than necessary, much less another year. However, Mike and I both were still confused as to why there was more water damage. I called home and had mightygodking replace the soap dish with a baking dish that was large but shallow enough to fit under the drain. After my next shower I checked the dish and saw that it was full. Holy crap. I don't know why it didn't occur to me until then that there could be that large of a leak from our tub, but it didn't take much math in terms of bathroom usage to figure out it was the cause of all the water damage.
After much searching I discovered that it was the rubber seal which connected the water pipe to the outside of the tub that was leaking whenever the shower was turned on, and it trickled down along the tub and off of its drain, which is where we originally thought the problem was. The plumber Mike subsequently called in confirmed this, saying that the seal was simply old and needed to be replaced. As satisfying as it felt to be vindicated, I offered to pay for half the repair bill as I thought that this wouldn't be the last time he would get all paranoid on us, at least not before I was able to move out, and I needed a kind of insurance policy to show whomever (housing tribunal, judge, etc.) that I was always acting in the spirit of good faith. It turned out in the end that I didn't need to worry, as there were no other incidents before I moved out, but I still feel that it was a good move to obtain peace of mind, at a reasonable price.