Poor Frank. Lately he's had some tough nights
given he sleeps each evening with the human
equivalent of a sonic boom. I'm unaware of the
situation. However it's obviously untenable as
the poor guy inevitably must move to his office
sofa in order to get some shut eye. For years I
have known what I must do to solve my issues.
Yet the sleep clinic is the last place I want to
visit. I'd rather let my spouse suffer instead of
being forced to strap something on every night.
A fact that's not only unfair but foolish as in
the end I'm the one who will benefit the most.
Yet will shutting my mouth guarantee silence?
Against all odds
Snoring is bad enough but even
worse given Frank's hearing is
pitch perfect. Sadly I'm close to
deaf. Whether due to too many
show tunes or ear wax - I can't
hear a thing. Whereas my better
half can hear grass growing. Yet
even I struggle with sleeping in
the summer. That's because it's
actually rather noisy out here in
the country. Try as we might we
can't seem to find a way to zone
out the sounds of summer.
After a lifetime of living in densely
populated urban areas we're still
adjusting to the relative silence of
Lewistown. Opening the windows is
lovely as nothing is better than fresh
air. Yet overhearing your neighbor's
TV blasting is hardly entertaining.
Nor is eavesdropping on a three a.m.
phone call from a passerby who is
obviously domestically challenged.
Most surprising, who knew that rush
hour would parade past our master
bedroom window daily at DAWN?
Part of our challenge is sleeping
at ground zero. Surprisingly few
sounds drift above the twentieth
floor. Hence when living high in
a hermetically sealed skyscraper
the cacophony of midtown New
York City was beyond ear shot.
Now we live in relative isolation.
But our home is in the middle of
town. Therefore we're exposed to
sounds rarely heard of in the city.
Now we're painfully aware that
we're ALL in this TOGETHER!
Ultimately we'll somehow adjust to our
summer of discontent. Many live along
freeways, over bars, or on the other side
of the tracks. All of whom adjust to all
that's going on above, below, or around
them. Before we know it the first frost
will end it all. Our triple pane windows
shut tight once more and we won't hear
a thing. Which will just about be when
we've adjusted to summer's symphony.
Once back in our sub aero silence we'll
miss that neighborhood din. After all,
misery loves company don't we?!