OK, dumb rhetorical device: obviously you don't hear anything because you aren't sitting in my apartment right now. The important thing is I don't hear anything, either. Specifically, I don't hear the sound of my bathroom faucet running, which is something I haven't been able to say for about three months. The last couple of weeks, I haven't been able to sleep without closing the bathroom door and blasting a loud fan to cover the sound of the splashing. I have been pestering the super for three months to come and look at it (I have a feeling that he didn't quite understand that I wasn't complaining about a barely dripping faucet, I meant there was a steady enough stream of water that I could wash my hands without turning the faucet on), and finally this morning he came, spent ten minutes fixing the problem, added a new filter so the water wouldn't spray everywhere, and left me to my nice, quiet apartment.

It seems like such a tiny thing, especially in the midst of the never-ending bedbug saga (they've been less evident this week, but I still need the exterminator to come out one more time and they won't return my calls) but at least when I'm not in the bedroom I can kind of put the bugs out of my mind. I could hear the faucet all over the house, constantly nagging at me, reminding me there was something wrong that could only be fixed at the whim of someone else. And after the frustrating work week I just went through, having one little domestic frustration out of my way is a much needed victory.