Peace… but never quiet.

It has come to my attention that I am extremely sensitive to sounds. You know, the strange nagging annoying little sounds the world is constantly bouncing off innocent eardrums, they are sounds I would define as noise pollution. This sensitivity I suppose has existed my entire life. I have always needed my room to be nice and quiet in order to fall asleep, only able to tolerate the steady whir of a fan or hum of an AC unit.  This has been causing me problems for about 4 years… ever since I asked my non husband to move in with me. Were he to be bestowed with and Indian name I would nominate “Breathes Like an Ox” and ” the Great Wind Sucker” for he paints with ALL the colors of the wind when he sleeps. Unfortunately for both me and his ribs which I frequently elbow his funny little nose snorty sounds keep me awake, and he always falls asleep before me.  It is almost as if the rest of the world fades into the background as I lay in bed and all I can hear is the all consuming sound of his breathing… and I slowly descend into madness and then it happens, the elbow takes flight.

A few months ago following a series of dental appointments which ended in 10 fillings, now refered to as my “new counter tops” I was gifted the ability to taste sounds.  My dental renovations had resulted in a level of sensitivity which was other worldly.  Every metallic ting or crinkle or squeak felt like chewing on foil and tasted like sucking on pennies.  A knife would squeak across a plate and I would salivate discomfort. I spent my days literally bracing my mouth for sound impact, to the point that I was pressing my tongue to my teeth and gradually, slowly and uncomfortably moving them within my mouth. The phenomenon grew worse the further the temperature dropped when winter came, and this winter was one for the record books. Eventually the weather warmed, my teeth began to heal and specially formulated toothpastes have striped me of my unique gustatory/auditory super powers.

Now that I’m not experiencing such physical discomfort from sounds I am able to simply hear them again and they are getting more and more annoying. Today at work I finally fought back against the noise. Just outside the door to my new and otherwise lovely office there is another door to a main traffic pattern through the building. This door opens approximately 600 times a day and every time it does the squeak of the hinges sounds like a pod of humpback whales is being set loose down the hallway.  And then when the door finally makes the long and loud journey back to its resting place it slams into its frame shaking the entire wall in front of me. After sitting at my desk all day yesterday losing a bit more of my mind to this distraction with each opening and closing, I decided today had to be a better day. The first order of business at work today was a heavy coating of WD40 on all of the doors moving parts, and the placement of multiple foam pads along the door frame to cushion the impact. The difference was immediate and… powerful. Today flavors were tastier and colors were brighter because the door wasn’t putting a damper on it all. I went back later and sprayed another celebratory layer on the hinges.  And I didn’t stop there, I sprayed my creeky chair and my squealing  hole punch.

And the next time my office mate disturbs my sanctuary with the rustle of his pant leg and squeak of his chair as he absent-mindedly bounces his leg, I’m throwing that can of WD40 at the back of his head.

I Love the Fresh Scent of Gain

I am a terrible insomniac, the only person who never took naps even as a child (much to my mother’s chagrin) and to this day it takes me nearly an hour to fall asleep after I lay down, no matter how tired I may be.  And during that hour and sometimes for many more after when I can’t sleep my brain is running a million miles a minute. And it’s usually now about anything important. It goes something like this: “I wonder what shirt would look cute with those boots tomorrow?… Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there… I wonder if anyone I follow in Twitter is still awake too… you know what I miss, Skip it… yeeeeah those were awesome… I think I left something in the dryer, that’s gonna wrinkle…why is dryer lint always the same color?” And that’s where about I got stuck the other night. And I spent far too much time mulling over the topic in my head.

I mean if every time you wash the load is different why is the lint always nearly the same? If I wash a load of blacks and then a load of whites why instead of dark almost black line and crisp white lint do I end up with two slightly varied wads of the same old greyish, bluish, purplish lint? Dryer lint is composed of what I can only assume is fibers off of the clothing in question.  So I would understand a load of jeans producing this bluish glob… but why blacks and whites. For white first I pondered if perhaps it was bluish because of the fact that yet another mystery of the universe is the fact that every detergent I have ever used is blue. Why is that? I suppose for the same reason tampon and sanitary napkin commercials always use blue in their informative video demonstrations. Blue is the color of clean. But then wait of the blue is from the detergent why is the lint from my blacks not… black? The blue wouldn’t cover black.

And then I resolved the debate with myself swiftly and harshly. “Why is dryer lint always the same color? Who really freaking cares you weirdo! Shut the hell up and go to sleep. Oh and by the way… BY MENNEN!”