Category Archives: Rant

Noise

Rant, , ,

I must be getting older. Things that never bothered me before are really bothering me and one of those things is [most] man-made noise.

I’ve already mentioned here and elsewhere that I don’t like background noise — apart from my year-long experiment with audio-books, that is.  I rarely listen to music or radio unless I’m in the car, and then only sometimes. I like the sound of my thoughts in my head.

In the spring, summer and autumn when it is not cooler than 70 or hotter than 90 or raining sideways we have our windows open. I love hearing the bird sounds in the spring. I love hearing the wind rattle the autumn leaves. I even like hearing the sound of children playing at the local park. And at night? My favorite sound is the sound of a train in the distance.

Right now, though, at possibly ear drum damaging decibels, the neighbor’s lawn-care folks are mowing and weed-whacking their lawn. They’re mowing the lawn with a huge riding lawn mower. The lawn is not huge. It is so small that I don’t know how the lawn mower can fit through the gate in the hedge. And it is loud.

This morning when I awoke at 7:30, I heard a loud noise. At first I thought it was Dean washing the floor with the floor washing machine he loves so much, but then realized it came from outside. It sounded like an airplane. I looked in the sky and did see two large (and low) vapor trails, so perhaps a couple of military airplanes flew over the house.

Have you seen the movie Noise? I saw part of it, but it made me too uncomfortable so I quit watching it.  I could sympathize with the Tim Robbins character so much it was scary.

Recently I read about a study suggesting that song sparrows were beginning to sing louder in places that had loud manufactured noise. I’m glad for the song sparrows — that they can adapt, but sad for them too. They should be able to adapt in fun ways, not to sing louder than a weed-whacker.

At night, in Bethesda, with the windows open, not only can I hear train whistles, but I also hear the sound of the beltway. I didn’t realize it was the beltway until I heard Susan Coll read from her book, Beach Week, where a woman hears a sound she thinks is the surf of the ocean but is the beltway instead. Sometimes I also hear Suburban Hospital’s heating and air conditioning unit. I might even be able to hear noise from NIH at night.

Next life I hope to live in the country where all I hear are owls and coyotes at night and birdsong during the day.

Shiny Happy People

Rant

Disclaimer/Warning: This post is a generalization.

There was a time in my life that I wished I was liked by everyone. I admired those people who seemed so comfortable with others that everyone loved them. You know the kind of people I’m talking about — they are the kind of people that, when they are talking to you, you know you are the most important person in the world. They usually smile a lot. They ask you the right questions. They nod in agreement with you.

Then it occurred to me, if these people are like this with everyone — then none of us are the most important person in the world. We are all, in fact, unimportant.

I encounter one of these people often. She’s constantly cheerful and uses the word “awesome” a lot. “How are you?” she asks, seemingly genuine concern in her voice. Then when you tell her how you are she replies with, “That’s awesome!” She may ask how the kids are and when you respond that the kids are doing great, she responds “That’s awesome!” You ask how she is. How her son is. How work is. It’s all awesome!

At first I thought she really genuinely liked me and really cared. But then I’d overhear her talking to others and she sounded exactly the same. It’s hard for me to talk to her now — not because I feel just part of a crowd, but because she’s just too damn cheerful. It gives me a stomach ache — like when I eat too many jelly beans. At least her husband balances things out — he’s often a grump.

I no longer strive to be liked by everybody. I’m not often rude, but also not overly cheerful either. People eventually see through the cheer and wonder what you’re hiding or what you want. The woman, above, is a successful salesperson — I just wish she’d leave the awesome cheer at work and be real with me.

But then, maybe that is really who she is and I’m just jaded.

Waiting for the phone to ring and more

Rant, , , ,

There are few things I hate worse than waiting for a phone call. Lately I’ve been doing that a lot.

Some of it is because a couple of people emailed me that they needed help doing something computer related. A couple of weeks ago a woman didn’t know how to sign up for an email list and I offered to help her if she called me. She emailed back, “Thank you very much!” but never called. I could have called her back, but she’s the one who needs something, I shouldn’t be begging for the opportunity to help her. The same kind of thing happened nearly a year ago — someone wanted help, said they’d call but never did. It happened again last week. A friend is directing a play and asked for help getting publicity. I offered to help set up a blog and he wrote back he’d love that and that he’d get in touch. I gave him my cell number and have not heard back — although I saw him on Sunday and he thought we could talk Sunday but we didn’t get a chance. He said he’d call, but didn’t call today. The thing is — I’d be glad to help these people, but waiting for the phone to ring is a pain in the ass.

Another call I’m waiting for is from the plumber. Actually from two plumbers. I called my regular plumber on Thursday evening about a clogged up kitchen sink, but I think he’s broken-up with us because Dean thought he caused a problem with the bathroom sink and when he came back wanted us to pay for a second call. I thought Dean was being unreasonable. Dean thought Mr. Monk was. When our regular plumber didn’t call back by Friday afternoon, I called a plumber recommended by a neighbor. This plumber should have called this morning, but didn’t. I’ve had to take my cell phone into the bathroom with me when I shower, just in case it rings. Tomorrow I’m calling Roto-rooter. Forget these personable plumbers recommended by friends and neighbors. They obviously have enough to do and don’t need my money.

We’re also waiting to hear from a tutor. Andrew finally agreed to getting some help with parts of the SAT. Dean talked to a tutor (recommended by a friend) who suggested he start on Tuesday (that’s tomorrow) and we’ve not heard anything back.

On top of waiting for the phone to ring, we’ve had problems with the land-line phones. If you talk on them for more than a few minutes the line gets crackly. Verizon says we need to troubleshoot so we’ve unplugged all but one phone — to see if we hear crackly sounds on it. We don’t get enough calls to figure out if it is crackly or not. (And if you’re thinking we’ve not heard from people because of the phone problems — we’ve given out our cell number, not the land-line).

In addition to a clogged up kitchen sink, crackly phone lines, and people not getting back to us we’ve got ants. Not just one kind of ant, but at least two different kinds of ants crawling around our kitchen. We tried baiting them, but they seem to not be the kind of ant that likes the sweet bait.

Oh, and we also have grain eating moths that have an uncanny ability to get into bags of rice that have been put into a second bag of rice. I guess they have sharp teeth.

I wish we could just knock down the house and start fresh.