So basically I've been living in my current apartment for years. I live here specifically and directly in relation to my short commute time to work, and the fact that the street-level noise is near non existent. In general, I consider myself basically a low maintenance tenant who just wants to drink my booze, play my games, fucking sleep, and get the fuck out when I need to work.
The yelp reviews for my management company are about the worst you could ever imagine. Had I known beforehand I probably would have gone somewhere else, but eh, fuck it. They're historically bad about fixing anything but so what, I just wanna be left alone to my liquor bottles and porn anyways.
So from day one I've had a leak in my bathroom ceiling stemming from the tenant above me. Basically any time they ever showered it would rain down in the bathroom. I didn't consider it urgent since it was over my tub anyways, so the leak would just pour down my drain and I would just shower in between the downpours. Serious. However after the first year, pieces of plaster and wood started falling down on my head so I decided to finally complain, and sent some horrific pictures to go along with it. Long story short, it took forever to get anyone in here and they did a half ass job of replastering, but the root problem from above was never resolved. It still downpoured every time they showered. It was such a damn pain in the ass to get their attention the first time, so...
I said fuck it, YOLO. What's an eye sore anyways? Long as I can sleep and make money I'm good. Years pass and now there's a full blown spore colony on select patches of my ceiling. Occasionally I would spray Windex or something on it just for, you know, sanitary purposes.
So about 3 weeks ago I'm casually on the phone with my father after getting out of the shower, and the black patch on the corner of the ceiling was looking particularly gruesome that day. I swear it looked like it was fucking moving. Maybe because I had just played RE7, but I was wigging out. I asked my dad for advice beyond spraying some Clorox/scalding hot water/whatever I could find on it.
Dad: "what does it look like?"
Me: "I don't fucking know. Mold?"
Dad: "no, dumbass. What color is it"
Me: "Black. It kind of lo--"
Dad: "black mold is lethal."
????
"Can you hear me, dumbass? Black mold can kill you."
Me: "I'll call you back"
So I frantically hop on Google, losing my fucking mind at how serious this shit really is and envisioning the fucking clickers from Last of Us and the fucking exploding bloaters and cordyceps on my brain.
Urgent APB to all parties involved that I could think of. Even with all that, it still took time to get the super in.
The reason I'm making this thread is because of the guilt factor. It was a one man hack job and he came equipped with a little spray bottle of bleach and a slop bucket with stained tools, paint, and plaster. It was horrific. Everything involved smelled like shit so I dipped out to get a bagel and flip through Tinder. When I came back I shit you not he was hacking his lungs out and making weird noises. Everything I read on Google says this shit can kill you and there he was with no facial mask or eye protection and just slopping some shit on with his bare hands !!! I offered him some sink water but when he finished he just kind of stumbled out.
So here's the kicker. Another week since then has passed and I just can't get the weird noises he was making out of my head. Was I breathing that shit in all along? I was marching home triumphantly from the gym this afternoon, and as I turned the block to my street, I could hear hacking, snorting, and spitting even through my Sony Xtra Bass headphones. I can't say for sure but I think it was the super! I'm just picturing him hunched over some trash bins, spitting up black shit and walking into walls.
Should I track this dude down and tell him to go get checked out or what??
The yelp reviews for my management company are about the worst you could ever imagine. Had I known beforehand I probably would have gone somewhere else, but eh, fuck it. They're historically bad about fixing anything but so what, I just wanna be left alone to my liquor bottles and porn anyways.
So from day one I've had a leak in my bathroom ceiling stemming from the tenant above me. Basically any time they ever showered it would rain down in the bathroom. I didn't consider it urgent since it was over my tub anyways, so the leak would just pour down my drain and I would just shower in between the downpours. Serious. However after the first year, pieces of plaster and wood started falling down on my head so I decided to finally complain, and sent some horrific pictures to go along with it. Long story short, it took forever to get anyone in here and they did a half ass job of replastering, but the root problem from above was never resolved. It still downpoured every time they showered. It was such a damn pain in the ass to get their attention the first time, so...
I said fuck it, YOLO. What's an eye sore anyways? Long as I can sleep and make money I'm good. Years pass and now there's a full blown spore colony on select patches of my ceiling. Occasionally I would spray Windex or something on it just for, you know, sanitary purposes.
So about 3 weeks ago I'm casually on the phone with my father after getting out of the shower, and the black patch on the corner of the ceiling was looking particularly gruesome that day. I swear it looked like it was fucking moving. Maybe because I had just played RE7, but I was wigging out. I asked my dad for advice beyond spraying some Clorox/scalding hot water/whatever I could find on it.
Dad: "what does it look like?"
Me: "I don't fucking know. Mold?"
Dad: "no, dumbass. What color is it"
Me: "Black. It kind of lo--"
Dad: "black mold is lethal."
????
"Can you hear me, dumbass? Black mold can kill you."
Me: "I'll call you back"
So I frantically hop on Google, losing my fucking mind at how serious this shit really is and envisioning the fucking clickers from Last of Us and the fucking exploding bloaters and cordyceps on my brain.
Urgent APB to all parties involved that I could think of. Even with all that, it still took time to get the super in.
The reason I'm making this thread is because of the guilt factor. It was a one man hack job and he came equipped with a little spray bottle of bleach and a slop bucket with stained tools, paint, and plaster. It was horrific. Everything involved smelled like shit so I dipped out to get a bagel and flip through Tinder. When I came back I shit you not he was hacking his lungs out and making weird noises. Everything I read on Google says this shit can kill you and there he was with no facial mask or eye protection and just slopping some shit on with his bare hands !!! I offered him some sink water but when he finished he just kind of stumbled out.
So here's the kicker. Another week since then has passed and I just can't get the weird noises he was making out of my head. Was I breathing that shit in all along? I was marching home triumphantly from the gym this afternoon, and as I turned the block to my street, I could hear hacking, snorting, and spitting even through my Sony Xtra Bass headphones. I can't say for sure but I think it was the super! I'm just picturing him hunched over some trash bins, spitting up black shit and walking into walls.
Should I track this dude down and tell him to go get checked out or what??
