...and then...

I'm reordering letters in my head, deciding the optimal combination for describing the sound below me. Thoomp. Thwump. Thmp. I'm in the tub: candles, lavender salt, merlot, ear buds, the whole nine. When the soundtrack plays itself out, I nestle deeper into the warmth, calm and, now, the quiet. Thrump. Almost immediately, I hear the sound of water dripping. Dripping steady and boldly where it shouldn't. Beneath me, beneath the tub, beneath the sub floor, I'm listening to the metered threat of a pipe leaking from my second floor bathroom onto the first floor ceiling. In breaking news fashion, my daughter comes upstairs to report that water is, in fact, leaking onto the floor outside her bedroom. "It's coming through that panel," she said sleepily. "Y'know, where they fixed the pipes before...?" "Yes, Baby," I said. "Thank you." Whhoum. Thomp. Ahmp. The heavy pulse of the water coursed my thoughts into ominou...