January 20, 2011
Is there a wormhole in my apartment?
Usually, upon returning from being away from New York for the holidays, I walk back into my apartment and am shocked and appalled by the conditions I’d been living in and wind up staying up until 4:00 AM cleaning. I can’t even unpack before I clean. So BEFORE I left for Christmas this past year, I cleaned everything–swept and mopped, scrubbed windowsills, slayed dustbunnies, changed sheets…and cleaned on top of the bathroom medicine cabinet.
Now there are many funny, and troubling, things about my apartment. Emily #2 and I often joke that, like the disturbing house of the novel House of Leaves that’s bigger on the inside than the outside, more stuff fits in this place than physically, rationally should be possible.
But the top of the medicine cabinet provides the best evidence that there is actually some kind of wormhole or other space/time anomaly at work in my apartment.
I am only half kidding.
We don’t clean up there often, but when we do, every time, there’s not just the dust and dirt and grime that you’d expect, but big pieces of junk. And we can’t figure out where it’s coming from.
Okay, see those two big white chunks? They seemed to be plaster or something similar. The smaller one is about half an inch across and the bigger one is more than an inch across.
One corner of the bathroom’s tile floor is crumbling from a succession of bad repair jobs. But how would this junk get from down there to up on top of the medicine cabinet?
There’s a hot water pipe that runs right next to the medicine cabinet, and there’s a little space around the pipe through its hole in the ceiling. But nowhere near enough for stuff of this size to be falling through.
And I’m sure it would be easy for my skeptical friends out there to say, oh well, it’s probably just left over from the last time your bathroom ceiling fell down. And it would be tempting to let myself believe that.
But this phenomenon predates, by years, the first time the bathroom ceiling fell down.
So I don’t know what else to believe…other than that there’s a wormhole in my apartment, or something like the magic karma frozen donkey wheel transport system between the Island and the Tunisian desert in Lost, only instead of being that cool, it’s between somebody else’s crumbling apartment and mine. Or that maybe it’s the NYC equivalent of vibhuti, the ashlike substance that is supposedly the residue manifested by sages like Sai Baba in great acts of magic. Only I’m not sure I want to know what kind of attempted metaphysical stupidity is producing this stuff.
If anybody has a candidate for a rational explanation, or knows more about the odd behavior of old buildings than I do, I’d love to hear it. Thanks in advance….