I managed to get my semi-clean self to work yesterday without completely buggering up my back. Leaning over my kitchen sink for 5 minutes sure as hell didn't help, but it didn't seem to make it that much worse. Once I got to work I called the management company and left a voice message which I hoped adequately conveyed my displeasure at the sequence of events. In response to Mindy's comment, I also was the most upset about the door not being locked and I certainly tried to make that clear in my message. A woman named Heather eventually called me back and left me a message in which she apologized (somewhat unconvincingly) and blamed the mess on my super who was supposed to inform me and didn't blah blah blah. She also came up with some lame story about the plumber thinking the door was locked by simply closing it which, when you had to use a key to unlock a deadbolt, really doesn't make any sense. She assured me the tiler was coming today and then my shower would be useable. I called Heather back and (surprise, surprise) left her a message thanking her for the update but that I didn't buy the plumber's excuse for not locking my door and it had better not freaking happen again.
When I got home (and unlocked my door) I noticed right away that there were dusty footprints on my floor that weren't there when I left and that the curtains covering the slider to my balcony were open when I knew for certain I had closed them to keep the heat out. Hmm. As I made my way to the bathroom I noticed yet more white stuff on the floor, now not just dust but larger chunks of what I assumed was dried grout. Now I'm a terrible housekeeper, but that's no excuse to track shit through my place! Only I get to track shit through my place! Regardless, I just wanted this whole debacle to be over, but when I peered around the doorway it became apparent that it wasn't in fact over because, while the tiling was indeed done, I still didn't have a faucet and spout thus rendering my shower useless.
So I did the best I could this morning with yet another sponge bath and back-breaking hair washing session, but I can't help but feel self-conscious about the possibility that I might smell less than, well.... fresh. It looks like Heather is getting another phone call from me, and if the shower isn't in perfect working order by the time I get home tonight, one of you is getting a phone call. I promise I won't sing and I'll even bring my own towel.