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Every home has its familiar sounds. Whether it’s birds chirping outside a specific window, the muffled footsteps of upstairs neighbors, excited shrieks from kids in the backyards running through sprinklers, or a long string of honks below a window, these occurrences can often serve as unintentional time checks. I know it’s 7 a.m. when I hear the whirr of the coffee grinder and the whistle of the kettle (my roommate loves starting her day with a couple of cups from the French press); It’s mid-afternoon when the voices of the two older men who take their lunch break on my apartment building’s stoop waft up through my open window; I don’t have to look at the clock when I’m woken up by the loud clang of the radiator in January (nine times out of ten it’s roughly 3:30 a.m.).
In the summer, the sound that’s constant in my apartment—a noise that could be considered an unofficial soundtrack, if I want to be dramatic (I do)—is the subtle swoosh of a salad spinner. Yes, you read that correctly: The subtle swoosh of a salad spinner.
