"BECCA! Why is it raining in the kitchen??!!"

Sometimes, I wonder, I seriously consider the thought that perhaps, I am just bad luck. Perhaps I am just a small gravitational field that pulls all unfortunate tidings toward it.
But then I just usually laugh things off too. I can get rather confused.
Last night was, rather literally, the night of unfortunate events. Besides spending a great deal of time locked out in the pouring ice rain, and breaking a vacuum, a hot water pipe in the restaurant I clean decided to up and break.
Well, actually, Zaira and I had very much fun with that.
I was mopping in the front of the building, Zaira was playing Tetris on her phone, and the girls in the kitchen had finally just left. I blankly noticed that my shirt was suddenly sticking to me and the windows were fogging; I turned around and saw this huge wall of steam coming out of the kithen when Zaira shouted: "Becca! Come quick! Why is it raining in the kitchen?!"
It was so cute. Zaira is fresh from Mexico and her English isn't the greatest, especially when she is freaking out about something.
We ran into the kitchen to find one little tiny pipe on the wall by the dishwasher gushing hot water. We immediately called the people that we had to, but, even within 8-10mins. the kitchen floor was flooded to the point where the water was deeper than the soles of my shoes are high. I ran to the hot water tank to try and shut the water off, but there were so many valves and I didn't want to be responsible for breaking something so I didn't do anything. But the time anybody got theer to aid us, we were completely soaked and the water was more than 3 inches deep in places.
I doubt that floor had a speck of dirt on it by the time we were done cleaning. We had the wet vac going and everything; it was the ultimate double mop.
It was really nice though. The water was nice and hot--we got a good steam bath and shower while working. We're all about the hygene.
The other day, Laura and I were driving through my old town on our way to the police station for my background check: I am officially not a criminal by the way. Anyway, I suddenly realized that my old home town means absolutely nothing to most of the people I know. They have no memories of that place. The know nothing of the swamps, and the forts, and tobogganing down the big hill, or the afternoons fights the the water station. This realization made me really sad. I suddenly, very much so, felt like I didn't belong. I've never really felt like an outsider before then. It's weird because there is a whole part of my life that the people I know now know absolutely nothing about. They've never wanted to know. I'm not sure that is a good thing.