Thinking Out Loud
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One person's data is another person's noise.
K.C.Cole
There's a cricket living under my bedroom window.
This one sentence alone could be the entirety of my whole column this week, because everyone who has had a cricket living under their bedroom window already knows what I'm trying to convey.
As I lay me down to sleep each night, I try to drown it out with a fan at high speed. Which leaves me with a dry mouth and dreams of tornado warnings.
I try to ignore it and think of lounging on a relaxing beach, with a fruity umbrella drink in one hand and a good novel in the other.
That doesn't work either.
The offending insect may as well be a barking Bloodhound on the trail of a fresh scent.
I try shutting the window, until the heat has my sweaty head nearly permanently laminated to my pillow and the dog is panting for air.
I attempt the living room couch, somewhat away from the ear piercing noise, but the one option position soon leaves me with an arm that is fast asleep and a mind still intent with obsessing.
On the cricket.
Soon enough the windows will be shut and sealed to fend off the predictions of another Polar Vortex. I'm reluctant to rush that any quicker than it already is going to happen.
I just want to be able to drift off to sleep without Jiminy shouting his mating call.
Or soon, the neighbor's may catch me in my ratty pajamas with a flashlight under the bedroom window on a search and destroy mission and mistake me for a prowler and call local law enforcement.
Then again, they do carry guns...
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Diane Szczepanski |
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0200 Nd: 04-15-2024 d 4 cpr 0
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