Someone sent me a video.
Not that kind of video. Get your head out of the gutter. I think it was baby seals or a puppy? Anyway, it doesn’t matter. The point is I had to turn the sound on my phone back on.
I forgot to turn it off again and later in the day I texted someone. I forgot there were little blips and swooshes on my phone. Suddenly everything felt more exciting. Almost like my phone was saying, “Yay! Let’s do this.”
I wanted to email, text, play this weird game my youngest introduced me to, just to hear the little sounds. I had not realized I’d been on mute for so long that I completely forgot about the zings and zips.
I’m sure they’re a marketing ploy, or an electronic siren luring me to keep hold of the potentially cancer-causing, time-wasting shiny box, but I am not going down that dark path. For right now, the sounds are…fairies, sprinkles. They’re fun.
My sound is still on. It’s been three days. I’m sure at some point I’ll get annoyed and put myself back in the silence tunnel, but for now, I’m enjoying the change.
It’s funny how we get used to something one way, convinced it’s “our way,” and then we have these moments of maybe-not.
“If you hold on tight to what you think is your thing, you may find you’re missing all the rest.”
Dave Matthews said that. And that, ladies and gents, is why Dave is my spirit animal.
The only sound still on mute in my world is the ringer. I’m confident it will stay that way because I want to punch people in the face when I am out in public and hear their ringer. Harsh, I know, but truthful.
There I go again, holding on to some steadfast rule and threatening violence.
I need to work on keeping things open, letting all the sounds in. There will be plenty of time for silence when I’m dead.
That’s all from the laundry room. Fluff the Pillows.