Meeting the Neighbors
Yesterday morning was not out of my closing-at-work routine. I slept late, stayed in bed and wrote for a little, and then got up to take a shower with the intention of making some lunch and then leaving for work. I lingered in the shower, washed some of my clothes to hang out on the line, and then went to turn off the water.
Nothing happened.
"Okay, clearly I'm doing something wrong," I thought. I turned the knobs the opposite way. There are two knobs, therefore mathematically there should only be four possibilities, I reasoned. I arranged them in every possible position at least three times, twisting the handle so insistently that a blister formed on my right thumb. At this point, I realized that it wasn't just my mistake -- the water just wasn't turning off.
I quickly threw on a dress and knocked on my next door neighbors' door. "Quien es?" they called out. "Um," I said. "I'm Abby, I live next door and, um...I have a question." I could still hear the sound of the water and it was starting to make me panic a little.
A petite Hispanic woman looking to be in her late thirties opened the door. I introduced myself, and I explained the situation. She turned around and called behind her about how I was having problems with the shower, too. "That happened to us a few weeks ago," she said. "Alex [the super] came to fix it. I'll go and see if he's downstairs."
I thanked her and despite the increasingly unsettling affect of the water-noise on my brain, I tried my best to go about my normal activities while I waited. I started to boil some water for macaroni & cheese and combed my hair. Soon I heard a knock on the door. I shook hands with Alex, the second person of the day to meet me for the first time while I was in an extremely scraggly state, and he took a box of tools into the bathroom. At this point I was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable that my neighbor had never actually said her name, so I asked her and she introduced herself as Carmen. "Can I look around?" she said. "Who lives with you?" I explained that I live with roommates. "Are you married?" she asked. I said that I wasn't. Five minutes later, she asked the same question again, so I thought it might be a good idea to see if I could still speak Spanish.
"The shower doesn't want to stop," I said in Spanish, stumbling a bit over the words.
A few minutes later, Alex came out of the bathroom. "All fixed," he said, and walked out the door.
"Come meet my mom and my cat," Carmen said.
"Okay," I said.
I stepped into her apartment, and it was like I'd walked into another world. Carmen's mother was lying down in a bed immediately adjacent to the front door. Carmen introduced me to her, and also to her mother's caretaker, who was sitting in a chair beside the bed. The cat walked up to me and sniffed my hand. "Be careful," Carmen said. "She doesn't really like strangers." At any rate, I seemed to pass the cat's inspection, because she started to purr and rubbed against my leg. Carmen took me on a tour of every room of the house, showing me her collection of perfume bottles and exercise equipment. "Sorry it's so messy," she said.
"Thanks for helping me with the shower, and for inviting me in. I have to get ready for work now," I said.
"You're welcome. Let me just give you Alex's phone number, so you can put it on the fridge in case you need it again."
I gratefully accepted the note and affixed it to the refrigerator with a Frida Kahlo magnet that Nomi had given me upon my arrival in New York.
I suppose if broken showers are what it takes to get me to meet my neighbors, that's not totally a bad thing.
Nothing happened.
"Okay, clearly I'm doing something wrong," I thought. I turned the knobs the opposite way. There are two knobs, therefore mathematically there should only be four possibilities, I reasoned. I arranged them in every possible position at least three times, twisting the handle so insistently that a blister formed on my right thumb. At this point, I realized that it wasn't just my mistake -- the water just wasn't turning off.
I quickly threw on a dress and knocked on my next door neighbors' door. "Quien es?" they called out. "Um," I said. "I'm Abby, I live next door and, um...I have a question." I could still hear the sound of the water and it was starting to make me panic a little.
A petite Hispanic woman looking to be in her late thirties opened the door. I introduced myself, and I explained the situation. She turned around and called behind her about how I was having problems with the shower, too. "That happened to us a few weeks ago," she said. "Alex [the super] came to fix it. I'll go and see if he's downstairs."
I thanked her and despite the increasingly unsettling affect of the water-noise on my brain, I tried my best to go about my normal activities while I waited. I started to boil some water for macaroni & cheese and combed my hair. Soon I heard a knock on the door. I shook hands with Alex, the second person of the day to meet me for the first time while I was in an extremely scraggly state, and he took a box of tools into the bathroom. At this point I was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable that my neighbor had never actually said her name, so I asked her and she introduced herself as Carmen. "Can I look around?" she said. "Who lives with you?" I explained that I live with roommates. "Are you married?" she asked. I said that I wasn't. Five minutes later, she asked the same question again, so I thought it might be a good idea to see if I could still speak Spanish.
"The shower doesn't want to stop," I said in Spanish, stumbling a bit over the words.
A few minutes later, Alex came out of the bathroom. "All fixed," he said, and walked out the door.
"Come meet my mom and my cat," Carmen said.
"Okay," I said.
I stepped into her apartment, and it was like I'd walked into another world. Carmen's mother was lying down in a bed immediately adjacent to the front door. Carmen introduced me to her, and also to her mother's caretaker, who was sitting in a chair beside the bed. The cat walked up to me and sniffed my hand. "Be careful," Carmen said. "She doesn't really like strangers." At any rate, I seemed to pass the cat's inspection, because she started to purr and rubbed against my leg. Carmen took me on a tour of every room of the house, showing me her collection of perfume bottles and exercise equipment. "Sorry it's so messy," she said.
"Thanks for helping me with the shower, and for inviting me in. I have to get ready for work now," I said.
"You're welcome. Let me just give you Alex's phone number, so you can put it on the fridge in case you need it again."
I gratefully accepted the note and affixed it to the refrigerator with a Frida Kahlo magnet that Nomi had given me upon my arrival in New York.
I suppose if broken showers are what it takes to get me to meet my neighbors, that's not totally a bad thing.