Sing us a song, you’re the shower man

They tend to say that New Yorkers aren’t that friendly. That they don’t take the time to get to know their neighbors. Well, Rachel and I are proving whoever “they” are wrong. So so wrong.

Every evening (and sometimes in the morning) Rachel and I gather and bond with one of our neighbors. The shower singer. He’s quite possibly the best part of living in our apartment. He practices his scales. He belts out operas. He’s basically the bomb. And he’s so much the bomb that I don’t even care that the phrase “the bomb” is hugely out (if it was ever in to begin with).

Rachel and I are truly grateful for our relationship with shower man. When we’re feeling down, we walk into the bathroom, sit on the toilet seat and tub ledge respectively and listen. He tends to stick mainly to classical though this morning I did hear a little Snow Patrol. We’re hoping to grow close enough to eventually request songs. We prefer he dabble in pieces from the top 40 list but for now, we’re taking we got and valuing our neighbors.

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