A Mile in Those Shoes

Blessed quiet!

The constant din from downstairs has stopped, and it's made me realize several things.

One cannot imagine how dreadful noise can be. I was a zombie: I was knackered, I couldn't focus, I was beginning to forget things, and I felt so low that I didn't phone the police (and I was truly collapsing).

The Big Freeze from which I'm recovering was something completely different, and I wasn't prepared to deal with life inside an engine room (on the plus side, I can now describe aforementioned engine rooms, life on a spaceship and torture by sound quite accurately, methinks).

I'd really have kicked the bucket if that thing had been going on, and I probably wouldn't have called the coppers because I was in no shape to do that, I felt abandoned and betrayed by the people in my building, and I was in such a dark mood that I was sincerely convinced that the coppers would have done nothing.

Mother was trying to find ways for me to cope with the din (listening to music 24/7, earplugs, etc...), but she couldn't realize in what dreadful, terrible state I was.

In consequence, that makes me think again about the issues that we all have to face (and the fact that not many people can really understand what our lives are like until they've walked a mile in our shoes), but... if the din were to start again, in order to not kick the bucket, I wouldn't wait a single second (no more waiting to see the caretaker or contacting the building manager), and I'd call the coppers to the rescue.

I have nothing against the people downstairs who are trying to make a living, but I'm not going to die for their sake...

In plot bunny news, the first Muff&Sherly novel should be finished this week. I'll just *cough* have to edit it then...