Wednesday, February 16, 2005
"Cacophony" doesn't touch the noise in my house at the moment or at any given moment on any given day between 4 p.m. or so and (optimistically) 9 p.m. or (realistically) 10 or 10:30 or 11:00 p.m. Cacophonous could even be a pleasing jumble of sounds--unlike the noise here, especially this evening, which is layer upon layer of shrill, repetitive, pointless noises: Other Kid's combination of vehicle noises and Power Rangers' catchphrases topped with the laugh track of an old episode of Everybody Loves Raymond topped with Son-One making zombie noises from '50s B-movies and pondering aloud (of course, aloud) how many times the extras cracked the leading actors up with their noises topped with Daughter-Only singing "Scotty doesn't know, Scotty doesn't know/Don't tell Scotty 'cuz Scotty doesn't know." (A dippy chant from the dippy movie Euro Trip.)
Of all the stress of parenthood--this, the din of pointless and louder than imaginable (or necessary) noises--gets to me in the sharpest, most tension-inducing way. Nails on a chalkboard and then some--SOS pad on my forehead just above my eyes. It drives me to distraction, takes a left turn and keeps going (doing fifty across the plains, alone, as SC used to say). It leads me to veer sharply from my intended topic of the evening and to write, instead, two paragraphs about the Agony of Da Noise.