Tuesday, November 30, 2004

Mystery is afoot at 327

Fact: at 3:43 AM sleeping area woman was awakened by sounds in her house. Moments previous, she had been dreaming that she was in a computer-generated world where obese children romped with squeeky inflatable toys. When she awoke, she heard the penetrating tones of a male voice close at hand, and the repetitive, electronically generated sound continued.

Shwoop-bwha-shoosh, Shwoop-bwha-shoosh, Shwoop-bwha-shoosh, Shwoop-bwha-shoosh, Shwoop-bwha-shoosh, Shwoop-bwha-shoosh...

She got up to investigate. The sounds were coming from the M*ster's room. She knocked lightly. A long pause ensued. Finally a small voice said "hello". They exchanged pleasantries through the door. Finally, the M*ster opened the door a crack, being careful not to let the Area Woman see what was behind the door.

"I- we're- working" the M*ster said by way of explanation.

"Could you keep it down?" Area woman asked as politely as her sleep-addled brain could muster.

"Of course," said the M*ster.

"Thank-you," said Area Woman.

Area Woman returned to her bed and she heard the sounds of heavy footsteps retreating down the hall, of lights being clicked off, the front door being opened and closed and of the M*ster getting into the shower. The mystery person sounded like *he* was wearing swooshy clothes, like a polyester jogging suit.

Fact: 3:45 PM. Area Woman returns to the house after work. The boot of the M*ster's car is open, but unattended. She collects the mail and deliver's the M*ster's post to her door. It sounds like people are talking (she hears music, as well, ironically a track she recognized from a mix Wobbly gave her in 1996). She announces in a loud voice, "Mail Call" (not without irony, of course). The M*ster emerges, keeping the door tight around her body and they make small talk about the previous morning's audial adventure. The M*ster appears a bit giddy. The M*ster explains that she had two friends over that morning installing software on her computer. She apologizes for disturbing Area Woman's rest. AW accepts apology and adds that in the future, a heads-up would be nice so she can take the proper course of action to have a good night's rest, like inserting ear-plugs. This suggestion sends the M*ster into paroxysms of mirth. AW departs to the kitchen. While she is picking things up, she sees the M*ster pull out of the driveway and drive away with a companion in the passenger seat, an anglo young man, with a fleece hat pulled down over his ears. They must have used the side door, since they didn't pass by the kitchen. AW decides to go on a bike ride, and when she returns, a half hour later, the M*ster's car is in the driveway and the M*ster is singing gaily in the shower.


Conjecture: Area woman's brain is full of all sorts of potential scenarios. From Sasquatch (supported by the elusive nature of the gentleman and his heavy, swooshy footfall) to midnight-naked-electronica-composing sessions in the Mirror Room. Should Area Woman feign ignorance and allow the M*ster to spill on her own time and in the interim, invest in a good pair of ear-plugs? Is it time for a little girl-chat about the thin nature of the walls and the fact that living at 327 is much like living in a Petri dish? The last time AW had a chat like that, she was served with a 30 day notice from the then-current Mirror Room tenant.

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