Broken Toilet

My toilet broke a week ago. Not the toilet exactly, but the button on the top of the toilet. The spring mechanism of the button came apart and flew up and almost took my eye out. When I recovered my composure, I examined the mechanism carefully to see if I could fix it. Some of these things can be fixed if examined carefully. This one I couldn't fix. The spring had come away from a white plastic part of the mechanism. It was broken for sure and I couldn't fix it. Being somebody who enjoys one or two beers of an evening after a hard day sorting mail and flipping files (and dealing with a Boss who is almost constantly vibrating with demented rage), it is obvious that a working toilet is essential. The beers go through at light speed it seems.
The only way to make my toilet flush was to take the lid off and examine the mechanism to find out how it operates. I see I see, you simply pull that little plastic elbow up, the toilet flushes, then push the rod inside the tube back up so the water doesn't keep dribbling down into the bowl.
Because I rent my microscopic apartment, all I had to do was call the real estate agent and ask the receptionist to send a plumber out to fix my broken toilet. It's not a hard thing to do. Most people would do it the next day probably. But I don't do things that way. It's been a week and I'm still revving myself up to make the call. I should have done it by now, I know, you don't have to tell me. The thing is, I don't even mind very much that each time I have to flush the toilet, this fiddly plastic elbow pulling routine is required. In fact now I got pretty good at it. Can do it fast. It's no problem. It just looks all wrong when you walk into the bathroom and the toilet lid is leaning against the wall and you can see into the top of the toilet, and it's kind of grimy in there, like a neglected fish tank with no fish.
I gotta make the call.