I'm really liking my new apartment, even as its less attractive aspects become apparent - the neighbors across the hall, for example, whose stereo sounds like it's in my bedroom and whose musical taste runs, sadly, to Ricky Martin and Christina Aguilera.
And the neighbors upstairs who, as far as I can tell, play recorders and clog - slowly. I don't even know if slow clogging exists, but it's the only activity I can conceive of that would correspond to the sounds I'm hearing from upstairs. Perhaps they're just learning to clog. Or perhaps you have to clog slowly if you're trying to play the recorder at the same time. Both seem plausible explanations to me.
I'm not worried about it - for one thing, it may be seasonal, something they indulge in only once a year (which would explain the lack of expertise). For another, it's only happened after 11 in the morning, and most days at this time, I will be at work, leaving them free to slow-clog their brains out.
Mostly, though, I find I like the mental image of them - I've decided they're some sort of recorder-based, slow-clogging, Czech version of the von Trapp family, and that, somehow, makes it all okay.