Drains are so terribly musical. I have the utter privilege of having the room near the pipes in our apartment, and I’m talking the premium pipes, the ones that run through the entire building. They course through my bedroom wall, gurgling and splurging and wishing and washing, all night long. I actually pay slightly less rent because of it, which now seems crazy because they’re so very melodic.
The housemates have occasionally tried calling in various drain unblocking companies. Melbourne being the place in which they operate, they usually arrive quickly, which means I have very little time. On the first occasion, Melody (who is named incorrectly, for she hates all forms of music that are not within her own narrow window of interests) insisted to everyone that the pipes had changed their noise and may have been getting blocked. Blocked sinks, blocked drains, she preached to all who would listen. There would soon be chaos upon us!
I knew it was all lies, of course. I know the pipes like I know the sound of my own breathing, which is to say that I’ve produced successful albums featuring both of them. They soothe me to sleep every night with a great wish-washing, especially when Mr Giuseppe on the floor above flushes the toilet. And he does that a lot, especially when he’s been having Indian food again.
So I headed off the drain unblocking professionals that one time and told them that it was the kitchen sink that had been gurgling. That’s what you get for going to work in the daytime, Melody.
Unfortunately, the next time she called them I was away on one of my music tours, and so the drains were unfortunately fixed in my absence. I mean, well… great work. Here in the Melbourne area, drain repair is easily managed, evidently. But also, I slept very poorly that night.
It fixed the problem, though. I just got Mr Giuseppe some Indian food vouchers, enough for a party, and slipped them under his door. The pipes were comfortably gurgling again within the week.