The Drought of the Snakes

     "Man on the floor!" I cannot begin to describe how many times I have heard this phrase in the past 36 hours. It was a quiet Sunday afternoon when I first heard these words, as the entire Sigma Kappa house sat in front of fans, stripped down to nothing but shorts and athletic tops. This is when the trouble began. 
     As the plumber made his way to fix a shower that was no longer working in the room referred to as the Penthouse, the entire house was without water for about an hour. In order to fix another small plumbing problem, the plumber returned on Tuesday to assess the situation. After having the water turned off for 4 hours, they finally left and all was well. "Drip, Drip, WHOOSH." From the ceiling in the Grand Room came water at such a rate that ordinary buckets could not keep up with. In a moment of desperation, phone calls were made and an inflatable pool was rushed in to contain the ceiling's outpour. The plumber returned at 10 p.m. only to report that the entire house was too old to fix small issues, and that all the pipes corroded with calcium, needed to be replaced.
     Those who had alternative places to stay scattered quickly and those who had no other choice but to wait it out, held tight to their Macbooks knowing they had to survive in the jungle that had become of the Snake House. It was every sister for herself and the house was filled with cries of desperation into the great unknown.