Wait until the music's over

40. Mao, vinegar and rice cakes

I roll over and slap my alarm clock as soon as it starts yelling. My room mate sleeps badly and not that much, I'd rather not run the risk of waking him up at five o'clock in the morning. After all, it's not his fault if I'm working terrible shifts at Raison D'être.

By the way, I don't even know if he's at home, I didn't go to bed that soon last night and he wasn't home yet and I have a little suspect about where he must have gone. I get up and out of my room opening my door very slowly not to make any sound, but I end up thrusting it open wide after I find out two things: first, my friend is actually at home, then, the most predictable of the two, Eddie's awake and, given the light coming from the end of the hallway, he's in the kitchen. I drag myself there to investigate, but first of all to get as much coffee as I can to be able to face this fucking day that started too early. Ironically, when I have the morning shift starting at six I prefer not to go to bed at all, maybe after a long session of practicing with the band, with the adrenaline keeping me up and awake. Yesterday we finished early though, we took a break, a free evening, that evolved into a 24-hour break, Stone's idea. A really strange idea considering that since Eddie came to Seattle for the first time we've barely seen the daylight, we met outside that fucking art gallery maybe once a week and he even booked us a gig five days after the band was born. "It's for restoring energies" Stone said. I think he had something to do by himself and didn't want to tell us. Eddie took the chance to work an extra shift at the mini mart, Mike and Dave, well, to do something I have no idea, and I used the break to sleep, a bad idea it seems.

Talking about bad ideas, or arguable ones anyway, there he is, the little idiot, kneeling on the kitchen floor, with his head stuck into the dishwasher.

"If you're trying to kill yourself, I guess you picked the wrong door" I say trying not to step on him as I reach for the coffee pot, fortunately full and warm.

"Hey Jeff, already awake?" Eddie pulls out his head and the half of his body that was into the dishwasher, sporting an unconvincing bun, yellow rubber gloves and a sponge. And suddenly an unbearable smell hits me, more powerfully than any caffeine-based drink.

"Yeah, I start work at six. What the fuck is this smell? Vinegar?"

"Yes, did you know it's the best natural anti-limescale product?"

"I've never felt so emotionally close to limescale than right now" I retort as I grab both a cup and the coffee pot and walk back to the doorway, trying to escape the smell in vain.

"Hehe things like this must be done, you're gonna thank me when we won't have to pay a technician to repair it" at this point Eddie stands up and takes a bowl full of liquid from the sink, he places it on the bottom of the dishwasher, closes it and starts the machine.

"And they must be done at five o' clock in the morning?"

"Well, now I have the time." he shrugs "And now it's your turn" Eddie reaches for some kind of steel grill that was plunged in a basin, full of what looks like hot water and something soapy and smelly, on the table, then places it in the sink. I'm still trying to understand what that stuff is while he spreads it with some white powder, then rushes on it with the sponge.

"And what is that?" I ask after I silently drink up the first coffee cup and treat myself the second one.

"It's from the stove's range hood..." he answers patting the device a couple of times with his hand, then suddenly inspecting it attentively and stopping his work with the sponge on the panel.

"Another absolutely necessary intervention I'm gonna thank you for one day?"

"It should be cleaned up here too" he goes on as if I didn't speak, still focusing on the upper side of the before mentioned kitchen range hood.