Finding Quiet

There is peace here in this town library which I have finally ventured out to explore.  Ducks swim amicably in the creek outside the window, while a fireplace cozies up the inner sanctum, almost church like in the quiet.  I came here to escape and will probably continue to come here when things at home get too loud.

Our old neighborhood had workaholic neighbors on both sides of us.  One would spend hours mowing, leaving the riding mower idling for five or ten minutes at a time for several times during the mows.  It idled loudly right outside our dining window.  He also enjoyed sawing and drilling, though those hobbies weren’t as strong as they were when he was younger.  And the other neighbor?  A man with a temper who worked on cars, ran a business from his shop, pressure washed often, and ran a leaf blower whenever he ran out of things to do.  He’d yell, cuss, throw tools just to name a few things.  He and his wife would get into ridiculously loud and embarrassing arguments, so much so that I’d be forced to leave the yard because I felt like an eavesdropper.

Now we live in a mobile home park.  It’s much quieter than our old place.  I have a nice quiet reading room, though haven’t discovered an outdoor nook yet due to the fact that it’s wintertime.  There are the manager’s dogs that frequently bark at anything and everything, especially when she’s not home, but honestly, they don’t bother me that much.

The neighbor behind us is a different story. He’s sixty four years old and lives alone and is quiet for the most part unless the neighbor’s dogs bark too much.  Then he hollars out at them or the owner.  I don’t blame him.  But Henry* also likes to blast his stereo once or twice a week.  The drumming loud bass does me in.  It creates a migraine like nothing else.  He did it earlier this week and he did it again today, so I finally decided to introduce myself to the library, and am glad I did.  

It’s not a match made in heaven:  a chronic migraine sufferer and radio blaster living next door.  However, I understand that Henry needs that booming stereo as much as I need my quiet.  It’s his outlet for anxiety and I will not be the person who tries to take that from him.  Instead, I shall take cover in town somewhere, and this cozy library isn’t very far from home.  

There’s a goose honking up a storm out by the creek, disturbing the ducks. Always someone in the crowd making noise, I suppose.  Such is life.  Peace out

*Henry is not his real name

About andreamarjulie

Just trying to navigate a life circumvented by chronic migraines. Sometimes I write about managing with those, but at other times I am prone to deviate a bit.
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