The cold water tap in our kitchen is leaking. It varies from a light but steady flow to a drip per ten seconds, but it never fully stops. Cat Daddy was all for just ignoring it until I showed him exactly how much water was being wasted: a washing-up bowl placed under the tap at 10pm is overflowing by 7am. It simply won’t do to just allow clean water to run down the sink in the middle of an ACTUAL DROUGHT.
Louis Catorze was initially profoundly displeased by the sound of the dripping, especially when it changed pace (as it does when we’ve had to open the tap). He’s now used to it, and only very occasionally flicks an ear when he zones back into it. I, on the other hand, am slowly being driven insane. It’s like Edgar Allan Poe’s Tell-Tale Heart, thumping away ominously in the background and becoming progressively louder, until I can’t stand it any longer and end up confessing to murder.
(Disclaimer: I’ve not murdered anyone yet, but I’m teetering on the edge. I swear I can hear the rhythmic drip-drip-drip even whilst I sleep.)
The person who needs to come and fix the tap is Chris. And Catorze scared Chris the last time he visited, by pulling this ridiculous stunt.
Cat Daddy has called Chris to make an appointment, and Chris has replied that he needs to order a part first and wait for it to arrive. Is this true, or is it just a delaying tactic to avoid having to return to the Demon Cat House?
EDIT: it turns out that I actually CAN hear it as I sleep, and that I wasn’t dreaming. The sound of the dripping echoes up through the Velux windows and into my bedroom at night. It’s inescapable.
For more Catorzian capers, please visit http://louiscatorze.com
louiscatorze.com 
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