Don't rain on my parade

And by parade, I mean body.

I come into my classroom this morning, after a weekend of feeling sick, and it kind of smells like gym socks. Gym socks? Why does it smell like that?

Well, ask I walk to my computer, I notice that there is a wonderful set of copies SOAKING wet. Wait, my brain says, did I spill? Did someone spill?

I look down, and see the puddle. ON MY COMPUTER. I look up, and see the roof because the contractor had taken out the drop ceiling, but REMOVED THE BUCKET THAT WAS CATCHING THE PREVIOUS LEAK.

SHIT. My roof leaked because it monsooned this weekend. My computer won't turn on. My television (that I never use and frankly was a waste of money but apparently we all had to have one) was in a puddle. ALL OF MY SHIT IS COVERED IN WATER.

I call maintenance, they answer, I tell them, and she goes, "Seriously?" Yes, why would I be lying about puddles? In Arizona. She said, "The contractor came to look at your roof and didn't think there was a leak."

Excuse me, Mr. Contractor. You didn't believe me the last time I got rained on?

So then the IT lady rushes in and about has a heart attack when she sees her precious computer in a puddle. Of water. Somehow she performs computer CPR (involving getting a new keyboard because mine was soaked with water) and it turns on.

But when I sit at my computer, the roof rains on to me. I almost sang "Don't Rain on my Parade," but
a) I'm no Barbara.
b) My kids would not understand.

And just to add insult to injury on my technology day from hell, we found a keyboard in the computer lab that had the letters "zxcv" replaced with "dick."

Good job, kiddos. You made it say dick on the computer.