My well-run apartment building is having a couple of star-crossed moments in a row, one of which involved me and the other not. Last week we had a pair of professional thieves crash the parking garage. My car was hit and the rear window broken, although nothing was stolen. The day before yesterday, someone in the building — on my floor, actually — left for work with a faucet running. Most people in the building work all day, so by the time anyone was home to discover the flood the water had been running for hours. Several apartments below, in addition to the source, were affected. I live on the other side of the building, so my space is dry. The hallways to the elevator are covered in plastic, and when I wait for the elevator I can hear big fans running in the various apartments. A small army of ServicePro people were here, cleaning up.
When you live in housing with other people, you are only as secure as the least careless person.
When I saw the plastic in the hallway and heard the fans, I went down to the office to see what had happened. I had the same feelings I imagine others did in the parking garage when they saw my window broken and not theirs: Wow, glad it wasn’t me. I’m not superstitious, so I don’t thing bad things happen in three’s, or five’s, or any number. I think bad things just happen, sometimes bunched together.
I’m not daunted in my preference for downtown high-rise living, but I am waiting eagerly for new harbingers of spring and for Seattle’s famously sunny summer to arrive.