Some days are ruled by bad noise. Nothing between the ears seems to work, and no amount of pushing gains me any ground. The best I can manage is to spot those days when they come and conserve energy instead of spinning my wheels until the tires go bald.
The last couple of days were ruled by the noise, and sometimes the noise was literal.
Squirrels have been waking me up every day, the little bastards bouncing acorns off the porch roof, filling the morning air with a sound like gunfire. Then there’s the sound of power tools, lawnmowers, and screaming children. And, of course, there’s been company. Every goddamned day, company for someone or another has been camped out on my porch yammering away into the evening.
Yesterday the noise turned into a kind of Chinese water torture. Every sound hit the same spot in my mind, over and over again, bruising and maiming it beyond repair. Even a few seconds of stolen silence felt like I was getting into a warm bath, only for the next ring of the telephone, or BANG of an acorn, to throw a bucket of ice water over me.
It should go without saying that it’s impossible to work in conditions like these.
But this morning the squirrels took the day off, or maybe I was just too comatose to hear them. Either way, I woke up on my own at 7:30 and smiled before my eyes were open–just like my daughter usually does.
A joyous silence filled my room, a simple moment of peace and quiet, and I felt my brain reset.
I feel pretty good today, leaps and bounds beyond where I was yesterday. Someone’s making a racket down the street, but I’m not bothered by it in the slightest.
There’s work to be done. And now that I can think again, it should be easy going.