By the time I post this, if I'm estimating this all correctly, these people should have an hour left to get this place up to code. At the moment...I'm not so sure they're going to make it. But we'll see.
     Of course, by my understanding, by the time I post this, it'll already be too late. I'd thought the spooks ordering them to make this happen had given them the deadline of nine in the morning today; as of last night, they were all working toward ten. So: either way. At ten, in just over an hour as I write this, I'll have been up for twenty-seven hours. Which isn't really a big deal; I was up far longer than that, doing actual labour, trying to prevent the water from destroying more than it did, before I finally got some sleep on Monday night.
     Of course, one of the things destroyed anyway was my new 4*6foot Dawn of the Dead poster, which I'd just got in the damned mail before this happened. So that's a thrill. Hopefully they'll still be able to replace that for me.
     On a whim, I went off to look at the mailbox. And this just makes sense. I'd called the Postal Inspector to report it destroyed, and he set it up to have my mail held until it was repaired by these idiots. Then, the landlord promised me, in front of the mailman, that it would be repaired by ten in the morning on Monday. The mailman, believing her, went ahead and delivered my mail--a box of books I'd ordered. Dumb luck I happened to get to them before anyone noticed that my mailbox has no locking cylindre and is just hanging open.
     So, now there are Federal issues, as well. Which just makes sense.
     I've got half a gigabyte of snaps of varying states of disrepair as all this happens--most of them from the last twenty-four hours--along with a good thirty minutes of fullmotion video. Once this is all over with and I have the time, I'll get them all into a format viewable online. Which should be loads of fun for all. Except, maybe, for the morons.
     To date, their laughable attempts at settlements, having conceded that they lied about my cigarettes working with a glacier upstairs to cause this problem...lemee talk about that for a moment.
     I befriended the labourers here. Which is always a good idea. They took me upstairs to show me that, in fact, there was never any fucking glacier; the floor up there wasn't even damp. So: I was very much lied to about that. On, as it happens, 'tape' >:)
     Something else I'll get installed into gremlin.net at some point.
     Okay: the first settlement offer, granting that their pipes broke and damaged a percentage of my stuff, which is a list too damned long to type out between now and nine in the morning, when I'll post this, was that, due to my inconvenience, they'd like to knock a hundred bucks off next month's rent.
     The second, better offer, was that they'd put me up in a hotel until this was all over, since it might be an inconvenience for me to be able to be here talking to all the workmen who give me all sorts of neat information about all this shit--the general consensus is that, in order to have this place up to code in an hour from now, the easiest, cheapest move would be to start by levelling the place and starting over. I assume that the inconvience I'd be spared by moving to a hotel is a different inconvenience than the one I got by shovelling water about for nearly a hundred fucking hours while the landlord lied to me about this being my fault, and therefore my financial responsibility.
     I'm still waiting for an acceptable settlement offer. Granting that insult was added to injury the instant they told someone who has been all the way inside a college that a fucking glacier was melting and producing hot water at a rate of ten gallons an hour, I'm waiting to hear them offer me half a million. Net. Apart from taxes and legal consignment.
     We'll see....
     Okay. It's nineish now. I'll go ahead and post this, and see what I can add later today....
--Gremlin

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