I returned home yesterday from a very long trip. We took two days to drive 12 hours, stopping over for a night in Pennsylvania to visit my best friend, Michelle. We arrived home to Brooklyn sometime in the early afternoon on Sunday and with our luggage, dogs, groceries and extra bags of Christmas gifts from my very generous parents managed to slowly hobble up the stairs.

I began by unpacking the groceries. Always my least favorite thing to do. And Sean ran to the bathroom…he made the terrible choice of drinking two large coffees before getting on the road.  From the bathroom, I hear him laughing. At first, I found this a little weird, but didn’t think too much of it. Guys laugh at weird things sometimes, ya know?  But then he calls for me to come to the bathroom.

Me (from the other room): Um, I’d really rather not. (I was a little wary of what exactly he wanted to show me)

Him: No seriously. You’ve got to see this.

And so I hesitantly make my way to the bathroom.  And there, laying in pieces all over my bathtub is the ceiling. There had been some leaking and water damage that for the past year we’ve been complaining about to the landlord…and now, two weeks before we’re moving, the ceiling caves in. Probably from snow or something.

And I, too, could do nothing but laugh. The laughter, however, stopped when I reached my bedroom to find another area of the ceiling crumbled…all over my beautiful velvet bedspread. For some reason, this room was a whole lot less funny than the bathroom. But, what can you do? We grabbed some garbage bags and began cleaning up the mess.  Then taped empty bags to the ceiling to prevent excess drafts and leaks until the contractor can come and fix it up.

Thank the Lord we’re moving soon. This place is most certainly cursed.