Folks, it’s been a while. I fell off the bandwagon and into the void. This beautiful blog sat lonely and afraid in the dark, like a little ghost after their haunted house was demolished and replaced with a new modern townhouse.
I didn’t know how to break the ice and enter the stage, the blog stage…the blage. So, I’ve decided to WING IT and share a tale of no importance whatsoever. Hold onto your ciders, quirksters.
It started one ordinary night. I had just finished slaving away on 400 dishes left in the sink. My hands were a pruny, sad sight. I don’t entirely understand why this happens, but I hate it, I thought, as I gazed down up the wrinkled blobs that were my palms and fingers. It was summertime, and I was in need of a cool drink before bed. In the fridge my eyes wandered to a small bottle of lemon flavored carbonated water.
After pouring myself a tall glass of fizzy, I trudged to my bedroom and began to get ready to call it a night. After snuggling in and reading some kind of depressing fiction, the lights went out and I prepared to enter the dreaming hours.
Except I wasn’t falling asleep.
It was getting late, and I remained awake. Awake is my least favorite kind of state. Sleep is the time for my neurodivergent mind and body to figure out all kinds of stuff, like why I can’t go up or down stairs, or why the feeling of the seams in socks make me turn into a neurotic mess, or
what I’m gonna do when the planet dies and I have to pick another one to live on but they are all terrible.
During the pre-sleep time, I became increasingly agitated. I tossed. I turned. I did the electric slide under the covers. I turned on the fan. I opened the window. I took a sip of fizz. I flipped over the pillow. I recited all the presidents of the U.S. in order starting with George Washington in 1789. (Yes, I can really do this. It’s my one talent.)
Yet, I couldn’t sleep.
Enter our antagonist.
Suddenly, the gears in my brain were able to produce a lead in this investigation of why I couldn’t fall asleep.
TINK. TINK. TINK TINK. TINK
No, it wasn’t Tinker Bell, good guess though.
It was a quiet – so quiet – gentle tinkling sound. Imagine if Tinker Bell had long nails and was gently clinking them on the side of a glass cup, like one of those ASMR YouTubers.
This is the scenario. Except my unfortunate soul, who can hear LITERALLY EVERYTHING, could not tune this out. I could not sleep until I put a stop to this madness. Cue me turning into an absolute werewolf and tearing apart my entire bedroom trying to find the source of the TINK.
I turned out my desk; crawled around on the floor like a creepy girl in a Japanese horror movie; I repeatedly smacked my electronics; I unplugged and replugged all the things.
With no success, I left my room, went downstairs and out the door (like a maniac). If I couldn’t find the source of the sound inside my house, surely, it was coming from outside. Logic?…..
I stood outside my house, in the darkness. The critters of the night were singing loudly in the dense woods.
After verbally assaulting all of nature, I retreated to my room, dejected. I could still hear the TINK CLINK TINK CLINK CLINK. I tried a new approach. One that I knew would fail, but had to go for anyway.
It was no use. Brain wasn’t grasping the concept of “just ignore the sound.” As I thought about moving to the couch for the night, I reached over to grab a sip of fizzy.
WAIT. THE FIZZY.
I peered maniacally over the top of the cup. Little baby bubbles were drifting slowly to the surface. When they would reach the top, they would go: tink tink clink tink tink. It was a sound so quiet that only a person with supersonic hearing and an undeniable predisposition for chronic stress could pick up on. These baby bubbles – how they mocked me.
Horrified, I downed the entire glass of sparkling water was quickly as possible.
With my room trashed, the woodland critters emotionally scarred, and my tummy full of demonic baby bubbles, I closed my eyes and collapsed into the dark silence.
As I drifted into the quiet bliss, snuggled under the cozy blankets, I could feel the Sandman coming closer. At last, sleep. Until-
I loved this article and the illustrations. I have hyperacusis or very sensitive hearing. I explain it to confused persons as thank Superman hearing. I have gone on many hunts like you to find the source of the offending noise. Thank you for a good laugh. Human is the best defense against depression.
Oh Kelly! You nailed it! You are my people! Yes! This has happened to me! Stupid demon baby bubbles! Happy to hear from you!
YOU, are too much. I love this. And this is so good…we have to do something like this for the kids…because you are not the only one with super sonic hearing, Shirl. God love you…and she does. -Verne
On Sun, Oct 17, 2021, 3:44 PM Eating Off Plastic wrote:
> Eating Off Plastic posted: ” Folks, it’s been a while. I fell off the > bandwagon and into the void. This beautiful blog sat lonely and afraid in > the dark, like a little ghost after their haunted house was demolished and > replaced with a new modern townhouse. I didn’t know how to br” >