Thursday, August 21, 2014

The Night Listener

Hum drum
Someday I'll learn to do my homework.
A few weeks ago we went to our local
appliance store and purchased a freezer.
As we reviewed our options, we looked
at size, color, defrost, frost free and of
course price. Sadly once installed at
the foot of our basement stairs we soon
realized we forgot one detail - SOUND.
You see, in the quiet of the night the
thing hums at such an irritating pitch
that we can hear it upstairs. It's loud
enough that I'm tempted to just unplug
the damned thing so that we can chill!
Against all odds
Frank's ears are quite sensitive
while I'm almost deaf. Whether
due to too many show tunes or
ear wax, my hearing is definitely
compromised. My beloved on
the other hand can hear grass
growing. We really both should
have thought this through a little
more carefully. The fact is it's so
loud that even I can hear it. Next
week we must move it to a less
convenient place where it can
hum all it wants to in isolation.
I can hear you...
After a lifetime of living in densely
populated urban areas suddenly I'm
more sensorially sensitive than ever
before. Open windows are lovely as
nothing is better than fresh air. Yet
overhearing your neighbor's favorite
television show isn't very entertaining.
Nor is eavesdropping on a three a.m.
phone call from the lady across the
street who is domestically challenged.
Most surprising, who knew that rush
hour would pass outside our bedroom
window early each morning at dawn?
Well grounded
Part of our challenge is living on
ground level. Surprisingly fewer
sounds drift above the twentieth
floor. Hence living high within
a hermetically sealed skyscraper
deafened even the din of midtown
Manhattan. Now while we live in
rural isolation, our abode is in the
center of town. Thus a cacophony
of sounds that we never dealt with
in the city. All of a sudden we're
painfully aware that we live in a
community of other human beings.
Winter of our discontent
I'm certain we'll adjust to the din.
After all, many live along freeways,
above night clubs, or on the other
side of the tracks. All of them don't
seem to hear whatever is going on
above, below, or around them. We
need to give ourselves enough time
to acoustically acclimate. Summer
will soon fade and our new triple
paned windows will be sealed tight
as a drum. I wonder if I'll miss the
neighborly pitter pat and chit chat?
Maybe misery does love company!