Next: how my room looked yesterday afternoon.
For the past month or so there was a small crack in the ceiling that seemed to be getting bigger. When people would walk around upstairs, little bits of plaster would fall down in my room. I just thought it was paint and plaster from the ceiling, and that the old house was shifting with the changing season. But the crack got bigger and bigger until it started to really annoy me. So I went out yesterday and bought some plaster to fill it in. I set up a dropcloth, got out the ladder, and mixed a bowl of plaster, and started to work on the crack. For about 5 minutes it seemed like it was going to work, but then I heart creaking noises and saw that the crack was re-opening. I got off the ladder, walked to the doorway of my bedroom, and as E started to wake up from her Sunday nap, the ceiling over my half of the room came crashing down. The ceiling fell down. It was the most frightening thing I've ever seen! And I'm not talking about just sheetrock, this was a huge piece of plaster almost three inches thick and about 8 feet by 5 feet. I could have died.
My sister and I called the landlady and then started cleaning up the rubble, which was disgusting. We hauled out about 20 bags full of broken sheetrock and glass from stuff that was on the mantel that broke. Everything in our room is coated with plaster and sheetrock dust. I'll spend the day today at the laundromat washing all my clothes and blankets. Ugh. I can't believe my life can get any worse, but E keeps reminding me that it could be much worse. Every time I start to complain, she says something like, "Well at least we're not hurt" or "Well at least this is better than being kidnapped and mugged or having our house burn down completely." When I said I wish I was in Greece swimming in the ocean she said "Well, there you might get eaten by a shark or get a horrible sunburn." She makes me laugh, so that's one good thing. I'm having a hard time looking at the bright side right now.
Here's what the ceiling looks like. The landlady is going to have her contractor come today and take a look at it. But I don't trust her to actually have him fix it. She never fixes anything that goes wrong with this place, and while its just been little things so far, this is serious. They're going to have to replace the whole ceiling, and that could be very involved in an old house like this. Who knows how long it will take or how much it will cost? The landlady will deliberate over the estimate, and meanwhile nothing will get done. So I think my sister and I might be moving out soon. The thought of moving depresses me--it's my least favorite thing to do in the world. But it might be the only option at this point.