By now my audience probably understands my sense of “humor.”

After tearing the main ligaments off of my ankle bone, losing pay, and filing an insurance claim with the city department ~ well, life became even harder.

Remember I said I had been out of work and the rent was due?

I had lived in the dump of an apartment for almost 9 years with my baby girl.

I do not shit where I eat ~ I keep a clean house ~ even with 2 dawgs and a teenager.

Although my apartments location was considered being the “hood” in Midwest White USA, I still maintained an acceptable home for my kids.

The featured picture is not even after the December flood in 2015.  It is my bathtub (or lack of ) after 3 years of not having a bathroom.


This is my tub with fiberglass (?) on top of the crack.  The layer of harsh material would cut our bottoms and feet ~ even with a rubber mat that had to be replaced once a month.

According to my lawyer it does not matter the environment of your housing that you live in.

As a renter,  poor person, single woman. and no education in law (hence hiring a fucking lawyer in the first place) the environment you live in does not matter if your rent is late ~ even if you were /are hurt and out of work.

Especially, if you make a loud noise  when and where you fell, in the same county your lawyer, property manager, and the city government-where-you-filed-an-insurance-claim lives and is from ~ Are you picking up what I am throwing down?

Therefore, I cut a deal with the property manager and my lawyer who insisted I should (what a dick) ~ but I could continue to live in the dump with my daughter; most important of everything.  And I thought life was throwing me too many lemons to continue to make lemonade in October 2015 ~ I had not given up believe it or don’t.

On a wet Sunday morning, December 2015 I woke up to a very soggy bedroom floor.  At first, I thought my Latino Queen, Mean Bean , had been angry with me and took a pee where she knew my feet would hit first thing when I awakened. (and yes she is that smart and that mean).

The depth of the wettness was way too high for it to be a puddle of muddle from a dawg!

My other foot hit the floor and both feet sunk into the wetness seeping over the bottoms of my feet.


As I continued to walk across the floor of my bedroom towards the door, I continued to walk through a sloshy, carpeted room.  I was not truly awake yet.  My brain still was unable to connect to whatever the problem of a wet carpet even meant…

Did I mention the first of half of my apartment was underground?

Yeah,  It was.

That “sloshy wetness of carpet”  was backed up sewage pouring into my bedroom via a pipe in the wall…

YES!  I was literally walking through other peoples shit and piss ~ including but not limited to my very own.


Here’s the deal ~ This story is a bit much for me to get through.  I sincerely thought this was the worse my life could get for my family.  And at this point I still believed there was going to be a siver lining coming up.  I was stupid positive!

I refused to pay my rent in January 2016 because I was still wading in shit only all of my belongings were crammed into to 2 rooms of an already too small living space.  But I made do and I was STILL stupid positive there was going to be a pot of gold at the end of this rainbow of hell for my family and myself.

See the 1990’s television?  I only had a dvd player to watch anything on it with.

I never did hardly.

For me, television is a waste of my valuable life.

My living room and bedroom crammed together…

See THIS crap??

this is Black Mold embedded into the concrete floor under the sewage-soaked carpet…

I lived in this shit hole trying to raise kids…

The health department pushed me out the door when I brought them a sample.

I called the EPA.


Any type of mold is too dangerous to be tested!

Yet! Because I contacted both the Health and EPA I had to report to the property manager that I reported the living space to them…


I was going to pay for stirring up the pot!!

How dare I think breathing and living among backed up sewage and black mold was important to anyone of authority other than myself?

Life was seemingly getting dimmer…

Published by

Ms. Mae

A Funny, Intelligent, Tenacious, and FIERCE Woman!

One thought on “#TornAndFlooded”

  1. That sucks so bad. Ugh. We had to move out of our duplex last year after it got flooded with sewage from our neighbor. Our landlord paid a “professional sewage cleanup” company to come out, but even with that, the place smelled so much of mold afterwards that it practically knocked us over when we opened the front door.


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