I'm such a light sleeper that it isn't exactly altruism, but I bought a can of WD40 at Target and lubricated every squeaky damned hinge in this apartment, from my roommate's walk-in-closet doors from hell to our shared bathroom's rolling door and even to our roommates' regular swinging bathroom door and no one seems to notice or voice appreciation (except for Sinay, bless her). It reminds me of all the little things my dad did silently and thanklessly around the house all our lives to make us comfortable, like changed the air filters and pulled long girl hair out of the drains, like the time that I was in the garage about to leave for my hourly job at Disneyland and he watched me expectantly as I put on my work shoes and voiced his sadness that I hadn't noticed that he'd shined them for me.
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