I had contemplated the idea of sending her flowers to apologize, and I decided, this evening, that I would do so.
Sorry, First Born, but FTD Florists gets you.
I think I've only sent flowers once or twice before. Definitely once. And I didn't pay for them. They were sent on behalf of my former employer. I just picked them out.
My rudeness just cost me $70, including "handling fees" and sales tax. So much for the $49.99 price tag, right?
And, unfortunately, I don't actually know my downstairs neighbor's name, and the reverse address lookup websites all come up with a billion names. I thought that, since my neighbor is an elderly Hispanic woman (pile on the guilt), it would narrow things down. Nope. The first three possible names listed are for Hispanic women in their early to late 70s. So in the "name" blanks (required), I entered First Name: My; Last Name: Neighbor.
I briefly toyed with calling the apartment office in the morning to ask her name, but feared they'd ask me why I needed it. "So I could send her flowers to apologize for being a royal b***h the day my apartment flooded. The usual." The prospect of calling started sapping my will to apologize, even if I'm not brave enough to do it to her face.
I'm hoping the florist doesn't call me for name clarification, thinking I'm a nutjob. Particularly since my card reads, "I wanted to apologize for 1) accidentally flooding your apartment (I no longer wash clothes when I'm not home); 2) my unpardonable rudeness. I am truly sorry. Megan (third floor)."
I also hope I don't end up with a defiant elderly Hispanic woman on my doorstep, throwing the flowers in my face and cursing me in Spanish. Particularly since I'd probably understand the cursing (I don't know much Spanish, but I understand enough to know when to be offended).
On another, more cheerful note, my apartment management is replacing my whole washing machine. I informed them that I'd washed small loads of clothes, and the thing was jumping all over the place, and could they please come look at it again, as I was afraid the jumping would throw it out of balance again, potentially flooding the apartment again. Ahem.
Jaime the beleaguered maintenance man left me a cheerful note saying that he ran the machine, there's something wrong with it, and he thinks the jumping could be what's wrecking the balancers. As opposed to their previous assertion that the wrecked balancers caused by my overloading were causing the jumping. Ahem.
So I get a new washing machine.
I can't wait. I bet my downstairs neighbor will be happy, too, once The Jumping Washing Machine of Dallas County is no more.