What the fuck is that sound on a pleasant windows-open September weekend? Someone raking gravel again? Someone stroking a very long tube of cardboard with very dry, calloused hands? Someone brushing metal with sandpaper in three foot long strokes? Oh, it's someone sweeping their driveway.
Schhhhhhhhhwwwwwwwwwwwwwiiit! Schhhhhhhhhwwwwwwwwwwwwwiiit! Schhhhhhhhhwwwwwwwwwwwwwiiit!
I would like to stick that broom handle straight up that motherfucker's ass.
Oh god. Now someone is striking up a conversation. Two BOOMING men's voices. HIIIIII. Blah blah fucking blah. I hate the sound of people. When I'm at home, I don't want to be reminded you exist within earshot of me. Go inside and watch some football or something.
Showing posts with label hypersensitivity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hypersensitivity. Show all posts
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Dryer Sheets
It's bad enough having to walk down the PERFUME aisle (laundry detergents, fabric softeners, etc.) at the grocery store -- a fucking migraine waiting to happen, but at least you can kind of avoid that aisle with a little planning.
What you CAN'T avoid are the people in your neighborhood who use those products, especially scented dryer sheets, and are equipped with blowholes in the sides of their houses to disseminate the cloying aroma of their laundry drying so it can be smelled as far away as three blocks.
Woe is me with my office window facing our idiot neighbor's garage where her washer and dryer are located. I can't open my window to get REAL fresh air; I have trademarked APRIL fresh air foisted upon me like a toxic gas.
That shit should be against the law. It's a fucking health hazard for a lot of people with allergies, migraines, asthma, chemical sensitivities, etc.
I don't mind when I can smell the smoke from their marijuana, just please don't make me smell that ghastly laundry perfume, mkay? NASTY.
What you CAN'T avoid are the people in your neighborhood who use those products, especially scented dryer sheets, and are equipped with blowholes in the sides of their houses to disseminate the cloying aroma of their laundry drying so it can be smelled as far away as three blocks.
Woe is me with my office window facing our idiot neighbor's garage where her washer and dryer are located. I can't open my window to get REAL fresh air; I have trademarked APRIL fresh air foisted upon me like a toxic gas.
That shit should be against the law. It's a fucking health hazard for a lot of people with allergies, migraines, asthma, chemical sensitivities, etc.
I don't mind when I can smell the smoke from their marijuana, just please don't make me smell that ghastly laundry perfume, mkay? NASTY.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Silence - I'd rip out my ovaries to get some
I don't know what my problem is this afternoon, but I don't. Want. To hear. ANY SOUNDS. I feel really hypersensitive to noises right now. The door knocking back and forth in the frame because of the wind circulating through the house. The sound of Delia's music in her office to accompany her shows. The fucking CROW cawing incessantly outside my window. The sound of cars driving over gravel. The hum of planes. The grating noise of a computer thinking.
I think I can even hear myself blinking, I'm feeling that tender.
God grant me a fucking padded cell already.
Seriously, I feel horrible about being so irritable; it makes me act like an asshole. I dream, though, of having a custom-built home with super-insulated walls and floor/ceilings with my office and one other room, at least, totally soundproof so I can FUCKING CONCENTRATE. I don't want to hear people I don't want to hear machines I don't want to hear birds I just want to have my mind to myself.
The funny part is that other times I really love noise, especially the noise I make myself. I actually *love* hearing crows and cars and computer noise and music. SOMETIMES. While others? I wish we had an underground bomb shelter where no noise could penetrate and no one would find me.
I think I can even hear myself blinking, I'm feeling that tender.
God grant me a fucking padded cell already.
Seriously, I feel horrible about being so irritable; it makes me act like an asshole. I dream, though, of having a custom-built home with super-insulated walls and floor/ceilings with my office and one other room, at least, totally soundproof so I can FUCKING CONCENTRATE. I don't want to hear people I don't want to hear machines I don't want to hear birds I just want to have my mind to myself.
The funny part is that other times I really love noise, especially the noise I make myself. I actually *love* hearing crows and cars and computer noise and music. SOMETIMES. While others? I wish we had an underground bomb shelter where no noise could penetrate and no one would find me.
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