It sounds like something sounds when it is breaking. It comes from the kitchen, where Richard is messing about with the dishes, putting them away. He also makes a sound, an unhappy sounding sound.
Richard took over doing the dishes almost a year ago, and he continues to do the dishes because my time is more valuable working than it is doing housework.
In addition to that, I was driving him nuts. When I was in charge, I often only did the dishes once a day, after the evening meal. Which meant the counter was messy most of the time; sometimes spectacularly messy. Embarrassingly messy if someone happened to drop in unexpectedly. Richard can't stand messes.
Even his messes are neat.
Initially, he was doing the dishes at least three times a day because he wanted a clean kitchen. I think this was an overreaction to my rather lax attitude. Gradually though, he has found that doing the dishes isn't a lot of fun, and so sometimes he only does the dishes once a day. Of course, the unwashed dishes are stacked neatly and well organized.
He has also become a master at organizing the rinsed dishes in the dish drainer. He makes some spectacular constructions of the dishes and the soup bowls and the mixing bowls and the myriad of storage containers and their lids and the pots so that he can get them all in without having to dry any of them, and then he puts them away in the morning. Which is what he was doing when the accident happened.
A plastic storage container slipped from its place and tapped - just tapped mind you - one of my favorite bowls. Unfortunately, it tapped the bowl right where there was a fine crack.
And now one of my favorite bowls is no more. My sister gave me this bowl; it was part of a set. I still have the other one, though. I know we are not supposed to cry over spilled milk or broken crockery...
Excuse me for a moment...