Will doesn't mean to cough so loudly, or so often.
That's what he tells me, anyway.
It seems curious that a person would have to cough with such regularity (every two minutes or so) and at such fantastic volume.
"Be reasonable," I plead with him.
"I'm sick!" he replies.
It seems like we are talking about two different things.
* * *
We have arranged to have the interior trim of our house painted, which amounts to a dozen doors, window casings and lots of 1940s-style molding. "It's probably best for me to take the doors off, sand them down and paint them. Maybe I could do that in your garage?" Dave, house painter extraordinaire, asks.
"Um," I say. "That might not work."
"Why? Do you have a lot of stuff in there?"
I consider. "Have you ever seen Hoarders?"
He laughs. "Well... let's see. I could take the doors off, bring them back to my place, and work on them there."
We shake on it. The doors removed, our house has a strange, echoey sound to it. I'm not particularly bothered that the mess in my hall closet, where I store our extra toiletries, is on display. It's actually kind of nice to wake up in the morning and be able to look directly into our walk-in closet. But it's somewhat disturbing to go through life sans a bathroom door. (Read here for more on my feelings about bathroom etiquette.)
Will and I have taken to announcing when we'll be in the bathroom, turning up the volume on the TV when necessary, and using the restrooms at our respective places of employment.
It's only temporary, thank goodness. And sort of an adventure -- the closest I'll probably come to camping.
* * *
For Christmas, Will bought me noise-cancelling headphones. I'd requested them, mainly because I do the majority of my writing in public places, and I like to be able to drown out some sounds. Also, no doubt because they don't know me, random people like to strike up conversations with me about the weather, their grandchildren and their parole issues. I love to be able to point apologetically to my headphones and shrug. Whoops -- I missed what you said, and sorry, I'm not taking off my headphones.
They work marvelously.
And they've arrived at just the right time, since at this exact moment Will is in the bathroom, hacking away.
Paula Treick DeBoard