Well, I’ve got to admit it. My brain is soup. Gooey, liquidy soup. The drilling has been particularly bad (though I’m in a lull right now, better enjoy it for the moment) and I think the vibrations are actually affecting the makeup and texture of my thinker.
What’s that, hypothetical reader? You don’t think that’s anatomically possible, and you think that my theory is based on too many late-night B movies? Well, I’ll have you know that I watch my B movies in the light of day like a civilized person.
Anywho, I do have my system down, with the earplugs and the headphones, though today I haven’t yet gone to the headphones. And the silence is still holding for some reason. But the trick is to not relax into it. The second I relax into it, it rears up again, seemingly even louder than before. And here’s the hammering. Although preferable to the drilling, I’d say.
See? Not to worry, the noise is back in full swing. Or full drill, as the case may be.
Yes, I admit I close my eyes and imagine a strong wind, one enough to be convincing but not dangerous. Though one could argue with these guys, it’s a fine distinction. Last year I watched their platform swaying in a wide arc, the men on it calmly continuing their work until it actually started to twist a bit. I watched them descend with the phone in my hand, afraid for a very unhappy ending.
But they made it down, safe and sound.
The noise is one of those things to which you adjust, like the pebble in your shoe you can’t get out, so you kind of step around it. Although it feels like my soupy brain is paying the price.
At least there will be the weekend break. Until Monday.
Check out my full-length novels, Her Cousin Much Removed, The Great Paradox and the Innies and Outies of Time Management and Aunty Ida’s Full-Service Mental Institution (by Invitation Only), and the sequel, Aunty Ida’s Holey Amazing Sleeping Preparation (Not Doctor Recommended) which is now available!