I felt that my first live journal entry should be properly weighty, but while I was sitting here trying to think up a suitable topic, our bathroom sink started talking. Oh, it's not in any language I understand, but distinct syllables were heard. Sometimes, an unholy stench emanates from the drain and some sort of opalescent scum is constantly renewing itself in there. Last week, we thought that our downstairs neighbor had violated another cut of meat, creating the miasmic fumes that made Elena sleep in the living room for safety. But now I think it might have been the sink.