Noisy

A colleague of mine was describing a recent episode in a convenience store: The clerk of the store was responding to a customer's good-natured ribbing about how loud she was by being even louder. For my colleague, this was too much, and she reported back to me how she "loathes" noise and could only think to herself: "thank God I don't have children; my life is so peaceful."

I nodded and smiled (a patented dada move, and one I will surely hope to pass on to young Samson), and that was that.

Now I don't want to get all afternoon-special on you, but I have to say that coming home to our noisy little house is the thing I look forward to most each day. The sound of life happening inside our four walls is a constant wonder to me, and I can't imagine life any other way. [Perhaps this is a comment on my dearth of imagination; so be it.]

Besides the fact that someone yelling over aisles of Slim-Jims and Cheetos is hardly the same thing as the sound of a child playing. Or crying, for that matter.

As she left my office, I thought, "thank God, indeed."

Can I get a chung chung?