Today's topic is noise.
My house is noisy. I work in the kitchen, and I have construction lads working in the basement. They must eventually migrate to the upstairs bathroom, and lo and behold, they must go right beside the wall beside my computer to do so. Actually, right through the wall beside my computer. The original toilet stack is there. Some replacing must take place, so some cutting and sawing and prying and banging must take place. It is noisy.
I was working yesterday afternoon, and Steve started crowbarring beside my head. "Too noisy?" he asked. He is a cheeky monkey. I explained that I just needed 150 more words and I would be done. He started hammering. I said some words, but not the 150 I needed.
But today I read a very cool article about the noise in your head. Well, if you're trapped in a coma. Remember that episode of House, where that rapper guy I like (Ice Tea? Ice Cube? Coolio? Snoopy? Tea Cube? I dunno - someone will know and tell me) was locked in, and only House believed he could communicate? Because House is magic? Oh, and I just read that House is quitting House, so, so much for magic. Anyway. They - 'they' being 'science', which we all take credit for with a collective 'they', which will soon morph into 'we' as in, 'we' went to the moon in 196something', because that is how 'we' are - have discovered a way to interpret brain waves in coma patients so they can understand what they are saying, if they could say it. I, frankly, find this very cool.
Of course the *very* next thing someone decided to ask is if they could apply this to torturing someone, and figure out the truth. Why do all cool ideas end up like this? As a friend of mine once said, the second thing invented after the internet was how to use the internet to look at boobs.
But on the noise path...more interesting findings. I love science. Apparently, they've (there it is again. I might as well just go straight to 'I') discovered that whales are peeved at all the noise made by ships. They accidentally discovered this by doing studies of whale poop in the Bay of Fundy (I've been there; I saw whales there) after 9/11. When everything ground to a halt, and no ships were allowed to sail, the whales were happier. Far less stressed with far less noise. I do not find this earth shattering. I have had jackhammers in my house, and you don't have to check my poop to know that I was less stressed when the jackhammering stopped. I'll tell you that for free.
I like quiet, myself. I had an invite to what appeared to be a great car launch the other day, but I ducked it because they were having live music. 'Oh,' I thought to myself, 'noise'. What can I say; I'm old. I appreciate the quieter things in life. When I see ads for seniors homes, I kind of wince when I hear someone yell 'hurry up, Sheila, you'll miss the bingo bus!'. This would not make me want to live out my golden years there. Actually, I'll be selecting which boy to live with when the times comes. The one who won't take me, I'll haunt after the fact.
Ads for resorts and cruises cause me anguish, as well. I like the ones that look deserted. I totally love that. But the ones that show conga lines and crap like that? Shudder. I went to one resortish place once, and they wanted people up on stage to embarrass themselves stuffing a rope down each other's pants. I obviously have no problem with embarrassing myself (see: dance competition), but I'm not big on join-y things where I am being prodded by people who are being paid to make sure I have fun. My husband hopped up and did it; my ex-husband.
I wonder what the whales thought of that terrifying cruise ship disaster in Italy recently. Captain Stupidpants trying to do a flyover (or whatever the equivalent is called in naval terms) and destroys what is for all intents and purposes, a floating city. That's why I won't do cruises; floating buffets, and I don't even like buffets that are not floating.
I've complained a lot today. I just did my second work out, and my legs aren't working. That, and I'm waiting for the right moment to go clear two men out of my bathroom so I can take a shower. Geez. I remember the days when I would have paid to be able to say that.
Oh. I am.