After the long hard day, I settle. Deep in the snugness of my quilt; the cold kept a bay by the heavy blanket. All is well for the wonderful nights sleep I so drastically crave.
All is silent.
My mind switches down a gear.
Into shutdown.
I drift.
Silence.

DRIP!

My eyes open in a flash. My brain thrown into third gear. I know the source of the noise, the monster that is snatching away my peace with every beat of infernal noise. It does it again. Its teasing me. The noise becomes a sound, which my brain listens to as it fails to shutdown like before. No longer does the noise resemble a dripping sound. It has evolved, goading me with a single word: Fix.

It repeats.
Fix!

Fix!
A collection of thoughts spill over into the droplet that keeps my slumber at bay. The word it utters hits a nerve.

Fix!
It causes me to feel guilt and frustration as I recall a vow from the back of my mind. It brings me to where I last heard the word: “I’ll fix that tap in the morning”. My wife protested at my weak response. And she was right. I didn’t do as promised.
And now it haunts me.

In the darkness the sound gets louder. Progressively. It begins as a whisper. A light noise, but persistent enough to send my sanity packing. No longer is it jut a whisper. It has evolved into a din. As the excess water hits the cast-iron basin, its sound waves alter. As it reaches my ear-drum it has become a blacksmith’s hammer, striking the anvil, striking my head. The pounding of the hammer worsens. Hits my head harder. The more attention my brain allows itself to allocate to the noise, the heavier the blow. My problems, my work, my ailments add themselves to the blow. Hits my head heavier. With every pound it chips away a little of my patience, my sanity, my mind.
I crumble.
I give in.

The covers are tossed away like food a high-chair bound infant refuses to accept. My feet are thrown down and plant firmly on the floor. I follow the source of the noise to the bathroom. As I throw open the bathroom door, I notice the volume has decreased. It is shrinking away from the confrontation it has provoked. I summon my anger into strength as I squeeze and twist its little head, choking out the life. I use all my might to crack the tap as far as I can.
And it stops.

Silence.
Peace.
Sanity.

I retire back to my bed and repeat my ritual. Pull over the quilt. Ensure both sides and lengths are equal, adjust, smooth out the creases and pull over the blanket. Settle down on my right side, the turn onto left. I’m ready. Back in my snugness.

DRIP!

It taunts me! The coward. It waited until I was settled. It waited until I was gone.

I cannot bear anymore hammer blows!

But, gradually, I hear my saviour arrive. I hear its marching approach. Its own distinct, relieving noise creeps into my ears and drowns out the harsh, repetitive pounding.
The rain.
The rain pitters in my skylight. Its exciting, unkempt, erratic rhythm overshadows the dull, lifeless thuds. My brain has no interest in a rhythm it cannot keep time with and allows itself to succumb to my orders.
It drops down a gear: shutdown.
I am at peace.
I am tired.
I am calm.
I am asle….