The Tap In The Bathroom
Leaking taps = bastards.
In total I have four taps in the sordid little grief-hole that I call my home, and every one of the gushing little sods leaks when they’re not in use. Apart from repeatedly biting your lip, being asked to help and the Tory Party, there are few things more terminally irritating than a leaking tap. My flat is open plan so when the tap in the kitchen drips it thumps through the whole place like when you get punched in the back of the head, or like that bit in Jurassic Park when the squeaky, dino-obsessed little shit hears the Tyrannosaurus Rex thundering towards him via a distant thud and his tumbler of gin on the car dashboard. I usually have to place things directly under the tap to lessen the impact of water to sink. More often than not I use a sieve and because it’s been repeatedly collecting water it’s turned a bit pink but this gives it a fancy psychedelic tint which is nice for when I have drug addicts visit.
One evening before I went to bed I put the plug in the sink in the bathroom to see how much water was being wasted. When I awoke the next day I discovered the sink overflowing on to the bathroom floor and had completely wiped out the family of spiders that lived by the toilet, all of whom I had previously named. Davey, Gemma and their family would not have stood a chance against the mini-tsunami that must have overwhelmed them. I often wonder where their sodden, lifeless little bodies ended up. Probably on the soles of my socks then trodden into the carpet which, to be honest, is rarely vacuumed. On the plus side all this unused dripping water is only adding an extra £400 a month to my water bill so you win some, you lose some.
The Tap In The Bathroom
One couldn’t wonder or imagine thus;
That vexatious wave of irascible fuss
Could present itself like a sobering slap;
Conjured by the drip of a tap.
An innocent splash from nozzle to sink
Disrupts my ability to think.
Or accomplish work, or my afternoon nap;
This doleful, soulless drip of a tap.
I neglect or dismiss what’s on my plate –
The burdens, the resolute quandaries of late –
To quietly simmer or mentally flap
At the relentless, obstinate drip of a tap.
Inevitably now, this attrition is done
For it’s clear to me that the tap has won.
Prevailing in its task to intrude and to goad,
But it’s something at least that it gave me this ode.