Unsilence

When the Radio Listener moved in next to me, I knew I was in trouble. We're different. I don't do country. I don't do lite favorites. I do NPR and guitar players you've never heard of. But I don't even do that at work. I'm the world's worst multitasker; I literally can't walk and chew gum at the same time, let alone groove and update spreadsheets.

And yet, when RL wheeled her cart of supplies into the cubicle next to mine and asked me if her radio was going to bother me, I said no. "No! It's fine. [Smile.] I'm used to the noise." That part was true. I'm in a high-traffic area of an office that contains the usual cast of phone talkers, hallway shouters, loud sighers, and cackly laughers. It truly doesn't bother me. It's the human din.

Music doesn't fall so well into the natural background, though. Neither do shiny objects, food smells, sudden urges to walk around, internet news sources, or any of my running daydreams. For what can distract me, I ought to relocate to an extra-large refrigerator box in the middle of a barren field. Although, there would still be the ultimate problem - my brain, which can't focus on any one thing for longer than ten minutes. A real limitation, that is.

But, suprisingly, I made some progress today. Somewhere between Barry Manilow and Peabo Bryson, I realized that I'd crossed six items off my list. What does this mean? Am I some kind of closeted soft rock fan? Or are these singers really so boring that their sounds don't register at all, don't qualify as either distraction or din? I don't know, but I'm going to take it as good news. I've got work piled high around me, so the next time the Radio Listener asks if the noise is bothering me, I'll tell her, truthfully, "No! You can turn it up a bit, actually. I mean. If you want."