Bitter is the new Montreal

So my upstairs neighbour doesn't know how to flush a toilet.
I've always wanted my life to be more like Jen Lancaster's - but I was thinking the designer clothes and successful writing career, not having issues with icky water coming from the ceiling.
I was floating in blissful sleep last night when my subconscious registered a dripping noise. Having had to give the tap an extra turn the night preceding to shut it off, I presumed it was the sink again. However, as I stepped out of my bedroom into the hallway I couldn't help but notice the HUGE PUDDLE on my floor.
I look up - there is a massive crack on the ceiling outside my bathroom and its dripping. Charming. So I do what comes naturally, panic, wake up Liz, put a bowl down and place a bitchy call to my building's emergency number. (BTW - having a building professionally managed is SO much better than having your landlord's 80 year old cancer patient handyman come over. I never wanted him to do anything, just sit down and have a cookie!). I then notice another crack - on my bedroom wall - and the stuff coming out of it is.... frothy?
So I've had a less than great 4 hours of kind of sleeping since then, but was impressed that before 9 there have been 3 capable looking guys in here. Who told me that the upstairs neighbour likely had let her toilet overflow for around an hour, and thus why there are now 3 cracks in my ceiling and pockets of moisture in the bathroom that we're sure are about to go too.
And this was going to be my productive working at home day..... I feel your pain Jen.