Despite the fact that it's well after eight in the morning, it is very quiet.
Usually, there is an overabundance of audible noise from the busy surface streets that surround us to the west and south, and the feint but persistent thrum of high speed noise from the busy expressway that wraps around us to the north. Fortunately, the noise is not loud and the area we live in is not a major metropolis. The noise is just there. Distantly there.
Most folks don't even hear the noise that I am aware of, and I wouldn't hear it either, except that sometimes a motorist has to be churlish and rev his engine or race his car, or hasn't had a muffler issue fixed, etc.
Like those who live around an airport or railroad line, (most of the time) I can completely tune out this auditory invasion, but when it is eerily quiet (like this morning), it just seems odd to be aware of not hearing it.
Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining.
It's just that this odd, out-of-character quiet makes the day feel more like an early Sunday morning, and not a Wednesday. No lawn mowers, leaf blowers or trimmers buzzing. Even the birds are somewhat less chatter-y this morning.
Quick, somebody, grab the remote! Have we been transplanted into the Twilight Zone?
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