Glockenspiel Down the Corridor

   I swear my roommate is listening to glockenspiel music on repeat right now. I'm not complaining, I think its hilarious. I'm sitting in the living room and roughly eight feet away in her bedroom is one roommate undoubtedly watching Homeland on her computer, but to my right, down the corridor all I can her is the chimes of what I'm guessing is a glockenspiel. *Special note: I spelled glockenspiel right on the very first try! Boom, roasted!*
   Hearing a glockenspiel from down a corridor is the only way to hear a glockenspiel. Some intruments are meant to be heard as part of a symphony orchestra in Roy Thompson Hall, others are best listened to after three glasses of ten dollar wine in your ex-boyfriend's basement but the glockenspiel experience is exclusive to being heard from down a corridor. It would really be great if instead of energy saying lightbulbs fixed to a track on the ceiling we had torches of real fire mounted on the walls (which would be made of granite in an ideal world). That would really the be very best way to listen to a glockenspiel. And instead of being played from a 2009 laptop, glockenspiel quality would be at its peak if it were being played by an eleven year old boy who's parents died in the french revolution.
   Maybe I'm just being picky. I should be happy to hear the sweet chimes of what can only be a glockenspiel- certainly not a soprano metallophone at any rate. I will never hear the classic orff instrument in ideal circumstances, the kind of noise that would make a blind man sing (you heard me). For now I am simply thankful to have heard and loved the music at all.