We’re flooded. Wheee. So, John wakes up this morning and opens our bedroom door. He yells “Shit!” I, in my sleep-fog, smartly ask “Huh?”. John yells “Shitshitshitshit! Wer’re flooded!” and I say “Flooded?” He runs all over the apartment (shitshitshitshit) grabbing towels and stuff off the floor while I stumble around trying to figure out what’s going on. Finally we figure out that it’s coming from upstairs and my first thought is “I hope he didn’t commit suicide in the tub.” Our upstairs neighbor, Gerome, is a very OCD math professor. who works nights. He’s not the most socially adept. Anyway, so we’re running around and going batty when I think “We’d better get the office.” so I yell to John “Hey, I’m going to go knock on Gerome’s door upstairs, then run to the office to tell them!” There’s no answer on the door upstairs, and the office is closed, so I page the emergency maintenance guys. I run back to Gerome’s place to make sure he’s okay. It seems that he sleeps with earplugs in, and didn’t hear me knocking the first time. He’s not flooded. Run back downstairs for the maintenance guys. After a trip upstairs to inspect and drain Gerome’s water heater, they get back down here to wetvac our carpets. Apparently, Gerome’s water heater’s bottom rusted through in the night, emptying the tank. The heater, thinking it was empty, continued to attempt to fill it back up again. Thus, the many gallons of water in our ceiling and all over the floor. Nothing is damaged yet though, and the water isn’t spreading any further. They say they’ll have to put carpet blowers in here, to make the carpet float about a foot off the ground (to dry) for 48 hours. I’ll be sure to get photos of that too.