For those of you who know my daughter, you know that she talks a lot. (That is why, in part, that she has a boyfriend who, to my knowledge, has yet to speak a word. And that is why, in part, I blog. It just doesn’t make sense for me to get a word in edge wise around here.) And while she talks a lot, she’s probably known more for the very high volume of sound she can create. And she has no mute button. Nor have I been able to find a volume switch. Very loud is all she knows. Very loud and very often describe the sounds that bounce off our walls each evening now that she is not hanging out with her boyfriend and absent.

She was in the middle of a diatribe this evening which she was sharing with all of our neighbors to the east and south (those were the windows that were open.) Some people worry about their pets disturbing the neighbors. We have greater concerns.

I tried to break in to her monologue to encourage her to whisper. I kept motioning for her to bring it down, bring it down. When she finally told me that she was whispering, I came to the realization that her whispers are louder than my shouts. And I always thought that rock music and jet airplanes were two of the worst things for the eardrums.

Well, the next two days we are getting a reprieve. She is on her way with her school to Wisconsin for a “bonding, get to know each other” time at some camp. I thought I should give a fair warning to all our friends to the east. I might still have a little cotton left in my supply if you let me know soon enough. Your ears will thank you.