I'm not a big fan of my current apartment. It's a rambling layout, a dis-integrated use of space, and it seems to make little sense for the functions of living (please don't ask about the kitchen; talking about it makes me cry).
But a special, unintended feature of this space is the echo in the long hallway that serves as a spine between the living room and the dining room. It makes the perfect sound chamber for singing, which I do often while I wait for the kettle to boil. I like to sing chants and other traditionals, and of course this intersected with SeaShantyJanuary beautifully.
My downstairs neighbors are probably sick of my version of "My Mother Told Me" each morning, but Little Dog continues to love it. Confession: It's very hard not to stomp my foot for the main percussion and use a tap on the wall for lighter beats.
They should be grateful that my tambourine is in storage.
