The apartment itself was comfortable and large. Management tried hard to get he residents to socialize and become friendly with one another, but it didn't happen. And they allowed pets.

My rugs were flooded three times at least, once by a neighbor who destroyed her toilet by trying to flush a maxi-pad down it.

Another time some foreign students had a broken toilet just as they were moving out. They put a towel in front of the toilet and left without reporting it. Management didn't bother checking the apartment after those students moved out, so they didn't know about the toilet.

Another time I came home from work and saw lights on in the window I'd not left on. I opened the door and heard the roar of a shop fan, which was pointed at the soggy floor. My cat was up on the fridge, one dog was in a panic, the other was in the bathroom, standing in a couple of inches of water, and was so terrified he was chewing his way through the door.

Then my upstairs neighbor showed up and told me about the excitement. Another one of my downstairs neighbors had a commode explode, and this time maintenance went over to my apartment to try to work on the flooding there. Unfortunately, though I'd paid a large pet deposit, th stupid maintenance men left the door wide open as they moved in and out. My dog was about to run out onto College Main and no doubt get run over by one of the many hotshot speeders in the area, had my neighbor not heard the commotion and grabbed my dog and held onto him for 30 minutes.

Naturally management didn't bother to call me at my job nearby and tell me about any of this.

Another time, just for a change-up, instead of getting my stuff ruined from the ground up by water, my things were ruined from the top down--there was standing water on top of some coffee table books that I'd had atop a bookcase.

I went upstairs and asked my neighbor if he had a leaky waterbed. He didn't. It turns out that during a recent rain the water had hit our building at an angle, and gotten in through rotten shingles, into the space between my neighbor's floor and my ceiling.

Or at least that's the Byzantine expanation a maintenance man gave me.

Ah, but it gets better.

One niht my dog woke me at 3am, wanting a walk. I reluctantly got up and took him out. I still couldn't see clearly.

We rounded the corner and I noticed something glowing red, close to the ground, next to the next building over.

"Ah. Must be someone with a hibachi, havig a cook-out....But wait---who has a cook-out at 3am'"

We went over closer and I discovered that what I was seeing was a cedar bush that was on fire! It was right next to the building. It's trunk and underside were glowing, so it had been burning awhile. Fortunately I saw a hose attached to a nearby spiggot. I turn on the water and handled the hose with one and, and my restless dog's leash wth the other.

I saw no indications nearby of what had caused the fire. I thought maybe someone had thrown a Molotov cocktail.

I got back to my apartment and caled the apartment's emergency after-hours number, which connected me with an indifferent answering service. I also called the Fire Department. They asked if the fire was completely out. I said, "I think so, bu I'm not a trained fire-fighter, so you might want to come check it out."

I stayed awake and by my phone until 5am, but neither the Fire Department nor the management company sent anybody out.

The next moring at 10 I went to the office. The smiling landlady said, "The answering service said something about you calling in something about a fire that you put out, but they really weren't too clear."

I beckoned for the landlady and a maintenance man follow me. I showed them the half-burned bush, and they just laughed and made a Moses joke.

And that is ALL they did about it!

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