The door slams on a minivan in a driveway across the street and I felt it on my ass while sitting at my desk on the second floor of my house at least 40 yards away. How is that? Was the slam that hard? Is my butt that jiggly?
There it goes again. And there I go again. If vibration is a result of something oscillating (like my rear) from the force of a movement like a car door slam, it is no wonder that for the past year my ears ring with pain when I do the smallest of tasks, like blowdrying my hair or clearing out the dishwasher. Just the clinking of metal from putting silverware in a drawer is irritating. The sound of porcelain plates hitting each other as I stack them reverberates in my head and clangs around in there. Little squishy earplugs help, but I would have to wear them constantly to get the benefit.
What is going on? Is this a precursor to going deaf? Insane from noise? Or is something more interesting happening, perhaps? Anything but insanity, please.
When we moved back to the Midwest from dry Denver, I noticed everything in life was amplified, which I immediately attributed to that wonderful floating fog called humidity. I hear everything and feel everything as if the air is a vaporous Peavey amp. This can be good and bad. Traffic noise from the highway zooms through the back bedroom hallway, but the buzz of cicadas in the honeylocust trees tingles on my arms. The cat chewing its toenails at the foot of my bed rattles it like a 6.1 temblor, but the meandering descent of a yellow ash leaf soothes my whole being in just one minute.
It has been a year since we moved here and the strange sensitivity to certain noises and vibrations continues. I try to protect my ears by being quiet, but I think the basic 7.8 MHz vibration of Earth is increasing to something more like 78 RPM, revving up for a wild dance.