My brain’s a little fried today, so when I sat down to think about my daily post, I closed my eyes and started to think of things I could write about. With my eyes closed, though, my ears decided that they should step up, and I got distracted by the small sounds around me.
This post, then, will be about that; about the sounds around me. Our brains are pretty good at filtering out the many noises present in our environment, but when we close our eyes and listen, we hear everything. I’ll close my eyes now, and open them occasionally to write.
I can hear the low rumble of the fridge-freezer, and the occasional crunchy (wrong word) sound that they like to make from time to time. Finally, it lets out a little squeak, and then settles down again.
Just as the fridge goes quiet, the forced-air heating system starts up. I had to get used to this sound when moving to the U.S.—it’s all central heating in England. It’s comforting, hearing that you’ll get warm.
The forced-air stops, and briefly it’s almost silent. I hear my dog plodding toward me from the bedroom where she was napping. I hear her flop down and breathe a big sigh—she’s ready for a walk I think.
Sirens in the distance now, but only briefly. A few seconds at most. I wonder where they’re rushing to, or whether they just wanted to make a light that’s turning red. I hear fewer sirens here than New York.
Silence again, and I can hear my own breath—a little ragged because I’ve come down with a virus this week. It sounds like it’s hard to breathe. It is hard to breathe, actually, now that I think about it.
Next up is the BART just a few blocks away. It’s that sort of vaguely electric sound; a whizzing, or a whining. I normally only hear it when I’m sat in the garden, but sat here in the silence I hear it inside.
The long, slow hooooonk of a freight train now, probably traveling along the waterfront. I hear it at midnight when I’m trying to sleep. I don’t remember hearing it before midnight, but I undoubtedly have.
Another big sigh from the dog, who I just know is staring at me right now. That’s the last sound that I’ll record, I suppose, because it’s time to take her for that walk she so desperately wants (and deserves).