Yes. Yes indeedi-do.
See this downspout? Hold that thought.
It’s raining in West Harrison but the temps are at least pleasant, nice enough to throw open all the windows and let fresh air into the apartment, that to my nose often feels stale from the constant running of the AC.
The rain is coming straight down so not getting the window sills wet. All good.
I’ve retreated for the evening to the little reading nook I created in the bedroom but I can’t concentrate on one word of the book because all I hear is the rain captured in the downspout. It’s like a kettle drum to my overly sensitive ears.
To 99.9% of the universe, this pitter-patter would be background white noise.
But I inherited my mother’s bat hearing. I can hear the tv on the lowest volume setting and prefer it that way. I once had to get a Barbados villa concierge to unplug the electronic bug things that were in the house. No one else in the family heard the high pitch noise, probably because it was set outside the human range, but it went right through me. Almost painfully so.
One of my children is (to me) a loud talker and I’ve on occasion have to gently suggest he lower his voice. That’s never met with much glee.
Of my children, two inherited my bat hearing. The others have their father’s can you turn the tv up please ears. 👵🏻👴🏼👂🏻👂🏻
Not to worry. I’ll live.