Home maintenance in three parts, Part 1

Translation: Free from chores!

Last weekend we had a huge storm for seven minutes. It may have been longer than seven minutes, but that is the amount of time that I remember, since it happened in the middle of the night. What sounded like a squirrel scrambling inside a plastic bag woke me up for long enough to figure out that the window in my room was leaking. I stayed awake long enough to put towels down and promptly passed out. 

I did not write a Post-It. Mainly because my room is filled with non-recycled trash and sweaty yoga clothes and I'm afraid of drawing undue attention to my mess. 

But also because I didn't even think of it. I have conversations in person instead of over small pieces of sticky paper. In fact, the next morning, I told Norm about the leak in person. She told me there was a leak in the basement as well. I heard her tell one of the sisters about it too. 

At this point 3 of the 4 roommates were informed of the leak in the basement. And yet this note appeared an hour later. 

And the fourth roommate actually wrote the note. 

Clearly nothing can be certifiably true at the Asylum unless it's stuck to the fridge.