PopcornJackTerry

My kitchen is conspiring to distract me.

I’m not talking about making me want to stop what I’m doing, head in there and stuff my face. That’s impossible right now anyway, unless said face stuffing is going to happen with crackers and mayonnaise. No, the distraction comes in the form of noises, noise that shouldn’t be happening but is anyway.

First offender was the refrigerator. About a month ago it started being louder than it needs to be. I’m no expert, but based on the rhythmic nature of the sound and the intervals with which it starts and stops makes me think that a fan blade has come loose, or something else has come loose and is being hit by the fan blade. I can’t help but think this doesn’t bode well for the future performance of this appliance, but the mystery of being a (possibly illegal) sublet means not knowing who I should call and not really wanting to call them if I did.

The second appliance that is out to get me is the coffee maker. This is something I have experienced with several coffee makers over the years, and that is the drip. It doesn’t seem to matter how long I wait to assure myself that there is no more coffee coming into the pot, as soon as I pull it out – and I pull it out as slowly and as evenly as I can, in order to maintain peace in the coffee making world – there suddenly appears several drops of coffee that fall from the spigot onto the hot plate, instantly sizzling up. Naturally I’m not about to try and wipe this hot surface down, so this means I end up sliding the pot back onto it, thereby increasing the sizzling and popping sound effects while the pot and the maker slowly fuse together for the next five minutes, a process sure to repeat itself every time I get up to fill my cup.

Granted there is a simple solution to this. I could just shut my door. If I didn’t live alone that would be the most practical option, but there is something about sitting in a small room with the door shut all day long. I think they call that prison, and that’s not the experience I’m looking for believe it or not. And even if I did it wouldn’t matter too much in the end.

In the closed room I would still hear the heat pipes cough and rattle as they come to life. I would hear the horns and sirens and general din of traffic, punctuated by the occasional sounds of construction, from the world at large around me. I would hear my neighbors in the hallway, or listen to their voices and music coming up through the courtyard. The world is not silent, nor should I want it to be. After all, I spend my days in front of this computer writing, hoping to add my own voice to the noise.