Momma Bear

>> Friday, December 27, 2013


I am a mother of four.
Four kids, wow, you have your hands full, are they all yours, do you want more, you are done, do you know how overpopulated the world is, you have your hands full, are those twins, did you do fertility, you are done, wow are those all yours...blah blah blah, I've heard it all.
Anyways, moving on.

As a mother I realize there is nothing that a Momma Bear wouldn't do for her little cubs.
So, as a rule, I try not to cross Momma Bears, unless they are messing with my little cubs and then I will destroy them. Gone.

With that said, I had a young tenant, early twenties, single, tattooed from head to toe, naked girls covering his wall, smoked like a chimney, BUT he paid his rent on time, barely said two words his entire tenancy and kept his porn-filled apartment clean. And, that is all that matters to me.

Every other month his mother would come to visit him from somewhere far away(but not far enough), and the second she stepped foot on the property until the moment she left she complained about EVERYTHING! Nothing was good enough for her baby. And yes, she called him her baby. And, I try not to judge, but I always found it a little weird that she slept in his apartment when she visited, and he didn't attempt to cover the naked ladies. Just a little....off, right?

So, as luck would have it, the mother comes storming into my office during one of her visits, complaining there was water surrounding the toilet. I sighed and rolled me eyes, and then reassured her I would be right in to take a look. See, she had complained about leaking water, mold, insects, sexual offenders, gangs etc, since she had arrived, and all offenses had turned out to be manufactured in her delusional snarky brain.

When I entered the apartment, I expected there to be pee around the toilet. I've done this long enough to know that is usually the case. Gross, yes, I know. However, as soon as I walked in, I knew Lady Luck was perched right on my shoulder, hunched over in laughter as she knew what was about to commence.

Two words.

Two very very bad words.

SLAB LEAK.

Ahhhhhhh!

I smiled and explained I would have my maintenance men take care of it, no big deal, even though I knew a slab leak is like the F-word in property managment. She said they were heading to Disneyland and would return later that day, but I had her permission to fix the problem. Her son said nothing.

As soon as she left, I went into crisis mode and called both maintenance men to the property. They diligently began pulling up the linoleum, drilling through the concrete and used some kind of fancy equipment to detect the source of the leak. I left them to their business. Three hours later, I returned to see how they were coming along, as soon as I entered the studio, my bottom jaw nearly hit the dusty floor as heart regurgitated into my throat.

There was a trench, a HUGE trench through the entire studio apartment. Holy hell, I knew this lady was going to eat me alive.  Not the son, he'd probably throw some plants in the trench and call it a day, but Momma Bear was crazy.

I screamed, I may have swore, which I typically don't do unless I am nearing a nervous breakdown. See, the maintenance men weren't able to detect the leak, AND they didn't cover any of the furniture before they started digging up the floor. The tenants clothes were covered in dust, furniture and appliances were nearly white, and it looked like a bomb had exploded.

I ran to my apartment, grabbed every cleaning agent and appliance I had, and dashed back. As the men were filling their trench, I was running around like a mad woman vacuuming the floor, dusting off the furniture, I may have even done a dish or two. The time ticked on, and I knew Mommy Dearest and her little "baby" would be home shortly. And, I knew the mother would not take my bosses offer to stay the night in the Motel around the corner, the one with bars on all the windows, and smoking pregnant woman strolling through the parking lot in mini skirts.

Sweat was pouring down my face as I used my little vacuum to clean off all his clothes. My maintenance men were trying to lay the floor back down as I grabbed a can of paint and repainted the hallway, as it was nearly black with scuff marks. All the while naked woman sprawled across fancy cars stared down at me, mocking me with their perfect stretch mark free bodies, as I was crouched down, covered in dust, paint and toilet water and only three months post pregnancy.

I was sweeping, again, for the third time, when my husband ran in to announce that the mother and her baby had just pulled into their parking spot, since he was on kid and look-out duty, and banned from that apartment.

We weren't finished, but we were close. I needed more time, so I dropped my paintbrush and ran out of the unit and over to my apartment. I grabbed my twins, who were three months at the time, and ran back out to meet the mother and her baby at the carport entrance. See, how crazy as this woman was, and she was nuts, I felt, based on the fact she still called her twenty-something year old son baby, that she might have a soft spot for cute twin babies.

And, I was right.

She gushed over the twins, tickling their feet, and going on about what a beautiful baby her baby was, back when he was actually a baby. I stood and chatted with her until I could see the silent man-baby getting impatient. I peeked back and noticed my two maintenance men pulling their equipment out of the apartment. I then explained the leak, and that we had fixed it, all the other details seemed impertinent.

We walked into the apartment together, I sheilded my sons eyes as we walked through the hallway of fake boobs. I followed the mother into the bathroom where I showed her the toilet and dry floor. She smiled and thanked me.

And then.

That Lady Luck.

She was not done with me.

The mother went over to the toilet, and flushed it.

Water gushed from the bottom and filled the small bathroom.

I stood there, arms filled with two cute babies, face covered in specs of paint, a topless woman leaning back on a red Ferrari, with her index finger playfully resting between her teeth staring down on me, and a Momma Bear about to eat me for lunch.


So, I ran.



2 comments:

Anonymous December 27, 2013 at 10:17 AM  

Slab leaks are like the F-word. Why anyone thought putting pipe in concrete is beyond me. What a mess.

Anonymous December 27, 2013 at 11:38 AM  

Funny

 
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