At-freaking-last, my toilet runs quietly. It only took 66 days and six people hemming and hawing over it, but it's fixed. It used to merely run and gurgle all the time, which was bad enough - especially at night - but after the last "repair" by the landlord, it started making the pipes (and the walls) vibrate with a very tuneful groaning engine noise. I kept having to pluck the top off the tank and either raise or nudge the ball into a different position. Like, six-eight times a day. Or depending on how often we flushed.
Yesterday, heartily sick of it, I cornered the landlady (her husband is away on a fishing trip). She promised to send a plumber, and indeed one did arrive around dinnertime.
Long story short, he fixed it.
Then I pointed out the capricious kitchen faucet, which leaks randomly all over the kitchen counters. (At least the counters are always clean.) He removed the faucet, examined it, and said the O-ring was quite the wrong size.
"The landlord is a nice guy, but..." he said.
"Cheap?" I offered.
"Yep. He just does a patch job on things and hopes they'll work."
So now we have blessed silence from the bathroom. If only I could get my fridge to cease shuddering violently whenever it stops.
Speaking of bodily functions, I have vowed, for the final time, to never eat McDonald's again. I thought I'd learned my lesson after that stomach flu/food poisoning thing a few weeks ago, but last Monday I was feeling lazy and didn't want to cook. So the Teen and I got some food at Mickey D's, which is approximately a two-minute walk from my door.
As I ate, I thought, "This really isn't very good."
Later in the evening, I thought, "Hey! Did we eat dinner at all tonight? Oh! Right. McDonald's."
A few minutes before bed, whilst in the bathroom: "Gah. That really wasn't very good."
Next morning, in the bathroom: "Gah."
NEVER AGAIN. NEVER.