Noises

Online information and fair weather persuaded us on Saturday that an outing might be interesting. It also provided a means of avoiding the vacuum cleaner.

So, as soon as our cleaning lady turned up, we were off.

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Today’s writing prompt asks “What are your 3 pet peeves?”

Three? I have way more. Perhaps you could say I have three categories of pet peeve.

Vacuum cleaners would be in the Noises category.

As far back as I can remember I have detested the sound. To this day I retain the grinding hum of my mother’s Hoover in my early childhood.

Over the 38 years of my airline employ, I was fortunate to have been stuck on the graveyard shift only very briefly. Some people chose to work through the night. For me it was hell, as I couldn’t sleep in daylight. The worst part came at 4 am, when the vacuum cleaner arrived.

The individual who was assigned the duty happened to have eyes that looked in opposite directions. As I vacated the office, I attempted a smile but found it disconcerting, not knowing quite where to point it. Befuddled as I was, I didn’t wish to offend.

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What absurdities one remembers, including noises long dissipated.

Such as the shrill whir of my mother’s sewing machine and my father pounding on his old Olivetti type-writer, which was one of Mum’s pet peeves! She used to mutter crossly:

“What is he writing all the time?!”

My dislike of summer is partly due to the racket of lawn mowers and power tools.

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Until seven years ago I lived always in suburbia, my ears exposed constantly to all manner of noise pollution, which I never really considered until I began visiting my aunt after she retired to the sticks in Maine.

Bird song, wind, rain, the flow of water; all those natural sounds are a balm that soothes.

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It was during those visits to Maine that I became aware of – not silence.

Late at night in what should have been the total absence of sound, I became aware of an unending hiss which existed obviously only in my head. In the past I’d experienced something like it after a long flight. Although the flight from New York was quite short, I assumed it must be the same thing.

But it did not go away. At times I imagined hearing the distant strains of a transistor radio. I could not make out the words, but the sound of voices came to me. It was Grant’s opinion that the considerable metal in my spine acted as an antenna. I’ve never researched such a possibility and since moving to the country, I’ve not heard that radio.

But the hiss is ever present – tinnitus.

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When I was tested recently I was told that I had hearing loss, but it seems to me that the sounds I failed to hear were merely muffled by the infernal hissing.

What I found out was that tinnitus results from abnormal electrical signals in the auditory pathways. Hearing aids are available that “use advanced sound therapy to neutralize these signals, reducing the perception of ringing”.

But I am not convinced they would be anything more than another piece of technology that can and surely would malfunction.

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During the day, listening to music is the greatest help. At night I have to ignore the hiss, pretend that I’m listening to white noise.

Which works when Brain doesn’t also decide to go into overdrive:

“Sleep? No. No,no,no,no,no! Not doing that. Wakey Wakey!“

Then I get up and walk around, read my book.

Plan another outing…

Which partly answers today’s writing prompt question:

“If you didn’t need sleep, what would you do with all the extra time?”

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As you can see, this was a very pretty day for a drive.

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We were not far from where we’d been the week before, driving up I-87, but this time we were on the other side of Lake Champlain where the terrain was much more open.

Tomorrow I’ll post some pictures of what we saw when we got to where we were going.

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