The note on the front door said,

TO OUR WATER CONSUMERS:

Water supply improvements being made in your area will require a brief interruption of your water supply. We regret this necessary inconvenience and would like to suggest that you fill suitable containers (pails or tubs can be used) to meet your water needs during this period.

May we also suggest that you give particular attention to the prevention of flooding by making sure that no fixtures are inadvertently left open at the time service is restored?

Thank you for your cooperation!

What the note did not mention is that just after water service would be restored—just as the men were climbing in the lorry and jotting off to their next errand—the toilet of your neighbor would begin continuously and indefinitely to spew forth water.

Nor: that by the time the sweet sounds of running water and agitated voices would reach you, there would be a puddle inch-deep on said neighbor's hardwood floors.

Nor: that the girl downstairs of the flood (herself newly dripped upon) would arrive breathless to tell everyone present, "Oh wow I'm so fucked up, I'm so tripping right now." No doubt!

Nor did the note mention how much fun the building would have in banding together, contributing mops and towels and buckets, and finally, after eight months of occupancy, introducing themselves to one another.