When I decided to move my “office” into the basement, I thought it would be a good idea.
Space of my own.
More room to set up all my gear.
Greater distance from the fridge.
All good things.
Now I’ll be able to concentrate, I thought. Now I will be able to finish that screenplay I started (in 2003). I’ll become prolific in my creation of music, maybe even do a podcast or develop some videos like all the other millions of people with too much technology on their hands. All my creative ambitions will certainly coalesce in this new space, I mused.
So, after I moved all my stuff “below deck” and set it up on the new media desk I built with my own two hands, I sat down, ready to create.
Then the toilet flushed.
I could almost hear my son’s school lunch rattling through the pipes.
Next, the furnace.
Funny thing about the furnace…I never really noticed it before when I spent most of my days on the surface with the other humans. I took it for granted as it silently warmed me and kept me comfortable. But now, sitting in my subterranean lair next to this aluminum box of noise, it’s all I can do to try and convince myself I’m not on a transatlantic flight sitting in the seat adjacent to the starboard wing and its pair of Pratt and Whitney turbine jet engines. The cruel irony is that even though my proximity to the furnace is closer than ever, I enjoy none of the heat it generates.
I’ve gotta’ admit…it’s cold down here. Especially during these sub-zero days. Even the cats spend little time here, except to visit the litter box which thankfully, doesn’t flush.
Speaking of cold, I think I just heard the cold water rinse cycle begin on the washing machine. Or was that the toilet again? More than likely. My son is lactose intolerant.
I did attempt to record some vocals for a song I’m working on. However, on playback I could hear the distinct sound of one of our cats working up a furball. I suppose I could auto-tune the gacking into the song. (Curmudgeon alert!) Could it be any worse than some of what’s currently passing for music these days?
By the way, did you know that when you have a teen practicing taekwondo, a high-energy ten-year-old and a wife with a penchant for chunky shoes, the squeaks, creaks and pounding on the hardwoods from above sound a lot like a couple of sumo wrestlers battling a flock of geese and four restless golden retrievers in a kitchen?
Strangely enough, there are some sounds I cannot always hear down here… the doorbell… and sometimes, my wife.
And for that last comment, I’m sure to get some heat…just not the kind I need down here… 🙂