Of all the times for the builders next door to fire up their tools, it had to be just as I sit down to write today’s blog post. Can you please explain to me just why it is that builders’ tools are so outrageously noisy? Don’t get me wrong, I completely understand the need for housing. Renovation of existing housing, even. But why, oh why, must the powertool choir drill its song into my poor tender eardrums just as I hear inspiration knocking at my door? Surely there’s some incredible tool inventor out there in tool-invention-land who has devised a silent jackhammer? A whisper quiet angle grinder? Or a hushable hand drill?
Alas, the wall of sound onslaught equals inspiration destruction for me. I’m one of those poor unfortunates whose brain melts down with a pin drop. My ability to concentrate on matters at hand… ooh look, a puppy!
See what I mean?
What do you do when your muse’s call has been drowned out by the pandemonium of every day life? Screaming siren sounds? Riotous traffic ruckus? Flight paths? Blenders? Three year olds?
OUTDOOR BLOWER VACS?!
Do you jam your earholes with earplugs? Or do you sit closer to the speakers? When I was in high school I could only concentrate on my studies when the strains of Kurt Cobain were cranked up to eleven. (Yeah, I’m that old). But today, if he was wailing in my vicinity, I’d want to punch him in the neck. Silence is golden, they say. I say the gloves are off! I’m coming out swinging, like a 30-something Hit Girl, all purple hair and swear words and slightly bigger boobs. That’s right Big Daddy, let’s show these goons who’s… oh look, another puppy!
Silence is a Golden Retriever.