Maybe your home/mind is a serene sound bath: a muted haven where every whisper is soothing and you are not triggered by the merest noise. Or maybe you are an emotional pinball machine, on constant alert, and the tiniest creak sends you through the fucking roof – let alone the audacity of the doorbell.
When the doorbell rings
Ah the doorbell. It explodes with malevolence. Obviously it can only be the murderer coming to murder. Or maybe it’s the police to tell you that EVERYONE IS DEAD. As you open the door you remember it’s Amazon with the positive thinking self-help book that you ordered. Whatever.
Creak on the stairs
There can only be one explanation for the creak. It’s not subsidence or the weird, improbably rich neighbours remodelling their basement for the millionth time. Oh no – it’s the spirit of negativity made flesh; the ghost of constant disappointment who has taken up residence and will now haunt you until the end of time. Or Lockdown 3. Whichever comes first.
WhatsApp pinging
CLEARLY THIS IS A NIGHTMARE. DON’T VOLUNTEER FOR ANYTHING. YOU ARE AT CAPACITY. YOU HAVE NO MORE UPDATES LEFT. YOU ARE RUNNING OUT OF MENTAL RAM. DON’T VOLUNTEER. FOR. ANYTHING. ‘I would love to read your dystopian novel/join the virtual book club/lend you my laptop/share my Netflix account’.
Micro-slip of plates on the drying rack
EARTHQUAKE!!! Do we run for the door or dive under the table? Oh wait… it’s just too much washing up liquid and sub-standard rinsing. WHY CAN’T I DO ANYTHING RIGHT?
Microwave going off
Dear God what is that noise? Is it an old smoke alarm that has run out of battery and will beep all night at regular intervals until you tear up the floorboards with your bare hands (true story)? Is it another whatthefucknowsapp? Oh silly you, it’s the mee-cro-wa-vée, heating up the depressing leftovers for your 11:45am lunch.
Showers coming on unexpectedly
Of course this can only be the murderer giving himself (or herself – we’re not sexist) a good wash before he/she murders. You hope he/she doesn’t use the nice Aromatherapy Associates oils you got for Christmas.
Phone not ringing
You are so alone. You will always be this alone, everyone knows about that awkward thing you said in the park and now you are a social pariah and that’s probably a good thing because you are so unworthy and also about to be murdered…
Phone ringing
How fucking dare it? Who even calls? Voicemail? What is this? 1999?
