This happened just now:

Inside, I am (well I was) speaking at a regular volume to another person. Outside, there is (was) a lot of noise.

(Well. There’s ALWAYS a lot of noise.
But for a few minutes, just a minute ago, it was especially loud.
One of my top ten least-favorite sounds, right there with motorcycles and human whining, is muffled tinny man voice through a wall. And that’s what we could hear. Plus music which I also dislike.

Well. Not all music. Just the kind that’s traveled through a brick wall.)

The person I’m talking to can (COULD) hear it. I know this because I also can (ARE WE TIRED OF THIS YET) hear it. And her ears are (YEAH, TOO MUCH RIGHT?) not broken, I think.

(Well. I can’t be sure. But I’m pretty. Pretty sure.
Also though, the other kind of pretty. Hi.)

And then we finished our conversation, neither of us acknowledging the noise that we could both clearly (I think) hear. Because in order to Get Things Accomplished, you have to ignore Other Things. (Right? Is that how we’re doing this, then?)

And then I said to myself, “Hey, that tiny baby moment, that one that just happened? That’s what EVERYTHING feels like.”

And then I wrote it down. Am writing it down.

This happened yesterday:

I took a picture of my feet while I was having my lunchtime quasi-nap at work because I had cute shoes on.