Noise

I just noticed that I logged my 13th post on the 13th. I am not superstitious, but I find that slightly intriguing anyways.

Today would actually be a better day to reflect about silence, since yesterday was the quietest one in quite a while. The plumber and his apprentice were padding about, setting up our dishwasher, finishing the heating system. They were gone by lunch.

It would have been better to meditate on silence today, in an attempt to get away from the experience I am having right now. The floor guys are here. The noise they are making is so pitched and deafening, I am squinting from a headache. The sound of their sanding is not unlike a siren, strangely enough. A police car with its siren on in my living room. That's what it's like.

The good news is that I came home in time to request that they tarp off our living space from the areas where they are sanding. They'd finished half the job, but it wasn't that dusty in here. But, I guess if that went on long enough, my asthmatic husband and his allergic wife would be looking for a hotel.

The other good news is, because there is that tarp taping us off, we won't have the experience of men walking through our bedroom unnannounced. Though that was kind of awful, I got used to it. I think that makes me kind of weird, or a hillbilly, or something.

I was talking to one of my best girlfriends last night. She married a guy with two teen-aged daughters. She has two teen-aged sons. It's like the Brady Bunch, but missing Cindy and Bobby. Well, she's basically fried right now, and needs a break. Somebody is always in the house. She can't walk down the hallway naked after a shower. She can't doze off on the couch without somebody traipsing past and waking her. If she's making something to eat, somebody else wants a bite. She doesn't get along with her youngest stepdaughter. Her husband doesn't get along with her oldest son. There's always tension.

So, I guess I can't complain too much about these temporary brothers of mine. Once they're gone, I'll have my little tootsie with me in the day, in a pretty new house, where she'll have all kinds of places to play and act crazy until her daddy gets home.

For now we're in a new living space: the maid's room. My husband set it up last night--which, by the way, he's good at, so I wonder if there's a career in reconfiguring rooms out there in his future. Hm. Nah. But, I've watched him carry all this heavy furniture over the past few months as he's set up rooms. The other day, he carried me upstairs. Now, THAT was a workout.

Anyways, back to the maid's room. I woke up this morning, and I thought of all the times she'd probably stirred awake, looking through the same the window frame, watching the blue light of dawn emerging. I wonder if she was treated well, was she bundled and warm in the evenings, did she have other dreams or was she perfectly content? I felt like praying for her family, assuming whoever was the maid here back in the day has moved on from this world. So, I did.

And now I think I'll add to that a prayer of thanks. Despite the cops in my living room, added to the noisy construction next door, our daughter is napping peacefully.

Hm. Now I'm sneezing and the top of my nose itches. Good times.