Friday, October 21, 2005

Quiet, please. At least some of the time.

Readers of this blog know that for a time - a time I thought would last, if not forever, then for a very long time, I lived in New Mexico. It's quiet there. It's one of the things I liked about the place.

Chicago is not quiet. At least not very often. I knew that, of course. I've lived here before, but I don't remember it bothering me as much. Or maybe my memory fails me.

It's not all of the noise that gets to me. I don't mind the sound of the El or the traffic - in fact the traffic is oddly soothing, an urban version of a river, or ocean. Sirens don't bother me, and car alarms seem to have improved greatly, I rarely hear them.

What I don't like are noises from the apartment above me or the apartment below me or people in the alley talking loudly in the middle of the night. D says it's because I don't like noises I can't control. I don't think it's that. What it comes down to is there are certain places where I want to be able to escape the racket and home is one of those places.

Maybe the solution is as simple as finding a new apartment. One where there's no one above me and only very quiet senior citizens below me.

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