No one has ever accused me of being too quiet, especially my
husband. I can’t count the times in a day
when he calls out, “Are you all right?”
It’s irritating, but at least he cares.
In spite of his good ears, I try not ...
to wake him when I get up at 5:30 a.m. to get some work done. I turn on the coffee quietly then rummage through the freezer for pancakes. Something is bound to make noise in that process – like knocking a stray ice cube on the floor or pulling the freezer door back too quickly so that it slams the cabinet. Searching for the butter, I knock something against something else. Closing the refrigerator door oh so carefully, I drop the butter. No matter how carefully I remove a plate from the cabinet, it still clangs, and getting the silverware out of the drawer never goes well. I remove the pancakes before the toaster pops up then knock the jar of syrup over in the pantry. Back at the refrigerator again, I find the milk quietly but the door slams before I can catch it. Finally I pick up my plate of pancakes and place it carefully on the table. Then I take my hands off and accidentally lift the fork and it clangs back down on the plate.
to wake him when I get up at 5:30 a.m. to get some work done. I turn on the coffee quietly then rummage through the freezer for pancakes. Something is bound to make noise in that process – like knocking a stray ice cube on the floor or pulling the freezer door back too quickly so that it slams the cabinet. Searching for the butter, I knock something against something else. Closing the refrigerator door oh so carefully, I drop the butter. No matter how carefully I remove a plate from the cabinet, it still clangs, and getting the silverware out of the drawer never goes well. I remove the pancakes before the toaster pops up then knock the jar of syrup over in the pantry. Back at the refrigerator again, I find the milk quietly but the door slams before I can catch it. Finally I pick up my plate of pancakes and place it carefully on the table. Then I take my hands off and accidentally lift the fork and it clangs back down on the plate.
If these muffled but innocent kitchen noises haven’t
awakened him yet, I eat my pancakes and try not to let the fork clang on the
plate while typing nonsense such as this blog post!
Some day I’ll be quiet.
Like the next time I’m at a party trying to make small talk.
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