I work in a noisy spot. Sounds are constantly assaulting my eardrums – beeping scanners, crying kids, moms yelling at them, one-sided phone conversations, pages and announcements, random snatches of private discussions in a public place. One afternoon we had a power outage for half an hour and the sudden lack of the cacophony of all the things usually running was just plain weird. Sometimes my head feels like it’s humming in an attempt to block out the background pandemonium. My ears buzz. All that noise makes me irritable and tired.
So the last thing I want to hear when I get home is the satellite radio blasting out freaking Christmas music. The first thing I want to hear is a big fat nothing, the beautiful sounds of silence.
W, on the other hand, tells me he likes background music. He has freely admitted this bit of insanity. He has the radio going ALL THE TIME, night and day, because he LIKES THE NOISE. I come home to the radio playing upstairs and the volume on the t.v. turned up downstairs. I’m not even going to begin to try to figure out why, but it’s obvious that we need to come to some kind of noise compromise here, other than having me stomping around turning things off all the time. I don’t want to get up to put the coffee on in the morning and have some stupid song immediately grinding on my nerves. It’s not a great way to start the day.
This morning, once again enduring the Christmas music, I made some snarky music/noise related remark which caused W to turn off the radio and go outside to spend quality time with his snow blower.
I suppose that should have made me happy, but it didn’t particularly, so I decided to search for a channel I could tolerate for more than five minutes. What I found, just this side of giving up in exasperation, is a modern jazz station that plays broadway hits. Seriously. So now who’s insane?
This is the piece that caught my attention – The Music of the Night.
The noise has been reverberating ever since. Like for two hours. This is some kind of record for me. And so it continues, and W isn’t even at home now. Maybe I’m coming down with something.