Day 4: Pants Optional
Following the men’s eye-opening experiences, I began to feel slightly nervous. So far, half of the band has shown some kind of potentially self-destructive quirk that could possibly kill the entire plan before it even gets started. After just two days, I can already imagine Robi trying to eat Pete’s bass before our ginger Samson completely obliterates that crazy Frenchman with some kind of hidden beast strength. But, I kept my chin up and carried on, jumping over to shy Claudia for some normal, undamaged Simitude.
After a champion’s breakfast of cold soup, Claudia went to the bathroom, like everyone does in the morning. And, being the neat freak that she is, she washed her hands. Unfortunately, the super of her apartment must be a terrible man, because the sink broke, sending water spraying into the air and all over the bathroom floor. We’ve all been there. A pipe bursts, the faucet handle snaps off, the toilet overflows. Whatever it is, it’s no fun. And Claudia agrees. She just apparently gives less of a shit than anyone else, because rather than trying to fix it, or even calling anyone, she decided to head on over to her keyboard for a morning jam session. Like Pete, she focused on that instrument like it was the only thing left in the world. Honestly, being a musical virtuoso, this doesn’t fall outside the realm of normal. Especially compared to Robi. I can even understand her lack of apparent awareness that the floor behind her was slowly growing more and more saturated with leaky-sink water.
After a solid afternoon and early evening of ticklin’ the ivories, the looming presence of an untidy home must have begun to overwhelm her thoughts. She needed to mop up that puddle. It was more important than the keyboard, and that’s saying something.
She mopped that puddle to perfection. Unfortunately, as the sink was still haywire, the floor never achieved optimum dryness, and the puddle soon returned. Unphased, Ms. Rodriguez decided that the only solution to this problem was to fix it herself, despite no skills, knowledge, or experience. Two hours and a thorough re-mopping later, the sink had been fixed and the floor was wonderfully dry. And, as sleep began to descend over the intrepid young woman, she looked back at her work with a nod, and called it a day.
At least there’s one sane person in this band. Whether the fact that it’s the shy one is saying anything, I’m not sure yet. But, at least she knows how to fix plumbing.