The Bareilles Incident

About a month ago I woke up in the middle of the night to hear “Love Song” by Sara Bareilles blaring from the iPod speakers in our kitchen/living area. Startled, I gingerly arose from my slumber to assess the situation. AV and KR’s room is at the very end of our apartment, right next to mine, but they were sound asleep. I walked down the hall to peer into the cove-like area, and saw AV’s iPod aglow, and upon closer inspection I found that it was, in fact, on and playing.

I told the girls about it the next day, and asked them if they had honestly heard nothing at 3AM, and they had not. AV’s iPod had acted up occasionally, and I thought that one of us might have accidentally hit the alarm button or something.

It was written off as an isolated incident until the night before last, when I awoke yet again to the same song. I was kind of singing to it when I woke up again, which was funny, and I thought I might be dreaming… but it’s when you think you’re dreaming that you realize you’re awake. And I was, again. I even pinched my arm to make sure. Again, I checked on the girls and they were snoozing away, and again I found AV’s iPod on and blaring.

I almost forgot about it happening until we were in a store in SoHo yesterday and I heard a song that reminded me of the repeat offense. I relayed my bizarre 3AM finding to the girls, and AV’s eyes got really big and she told me that she had turned her iPod on after KR and I had left early, and thought it was strange that her play list would start in the middle of a song when she had just turned it on. I was like “THANK YOU- I THOUGHT I WAS GOING INSANE.”

New rule: AV’s iPod is not to be left charging on the speakers after dark.

My only conclusion is that there is a tiny devil that lives behind our stove and likes possessing our appliances by night. Our microwave, (which, granted, was the smallest and cheapest Target had to offer)- now makes a whirring noise anytime it is plugged in and not in use. Our coffee maker randomly started pouring our water instead of brewing coffee one morning this week. Our gas oven will never start the first time, and forces you to peer your head inside it to make sure the blue gas light at the bottom comes on while you turn the knob. THAT can’t be safe.

Our Christmas tree is looking more and more reminiscent of Charlie Brown’s everyday. We are constantly dust-busting the needles that fall off of it, and our little vacuum now sounds like a maraca.

This whole planned-obsolescence thing is getting way out of hand.

“I’m not gonna write you a love song
‘Cause you tell me it’s
Make or breaking this,
If you’re on your way
I’m not gonna write you to stay…”

- Sara Bareilles, “Love Song”