The ceiling of our bathroom should be caving in any day now.

First it developed splotches above the shower, then beads of moisture began to drip from it, and now little flakes of paint are beginning to detach themselves and dangle ominously downwards.

We've called our landlords, who said they would send their 'engineer' out. It seems this 'engineer' is the same general fix-it man for our building that we have dealt with previously during such events as "The time our gas fireplace tried to kill us with noxious fumes that left black residue around the door, and fix-it man's solution was to bring in some plumbers who roto-rooted the chimney and left us to die, depsite the face that the real problem was that the gas logs were two sizes too big for the pipe," and "The time our third-story neighbors let their hugeass dog's claws wreck their wooden floors while they simultaneously smashed all the stained glass decorations during drunken frat-boys revels, so fix-it guy decided to turn our apartment into a 'show apartment' in a clever bait-and-switch tactic while trying to rent theirs out to prospective new tenants."

Good times, obviously.

And that isn't even mentioning "The time we came home after Christmas holidays to find the paint/stucco on both of the walls in one of the corners of my office peeling away because it had been drenched by a flood of water from a broken radiator upstairs (and nevermind the fact that the people upstairs are such drug-addled freaks that they hadn't yet noticed the warped floor damage the accident had caused in their apartment), and fix-it guy's solution was to just paint over the water-stain."

I have no high hopes of him ever showing up or, if he does, being able to fix the ceiling, so I'm going straight to Plan B: Cleaning the bathroom so the neighbors won't think us untidy when they plummet into it during the course of their morning ablutions.