Quiet. I recently experienced a lot of quiet. Not by choice. Nope. It was me vs. a door. The door won.
My daughter, Cat, and I were trying to hang a door onto my bedroom. We figured out which way was up. Cat carefully measured where each hinge should go, and we painstakingly screwed the hinges connecting the door & the doorframe. It wasn’t easy. My sonic screwdriver’s battery ran out of power (ok-It’s really a cordless screwdriver, but as a fan of Doctor Who…..) Using a manual Phillips head was exhausting. Finally, we remembered that my drill could be used as a screwdriver, and we got the hinges all attached. Took us an entire hour to do all this!
With a flourish, we closed the door. Bampf. It hung at an angle, wouldn’t close, and there was no clearance at the top. Cat was muttering at the door, and near tears. Me? In frustration, I let out a scream, directly at the door.
We both calmed down, and agreed to call Sue, a friend with super skills. However, for me, it was too late. Almost immediately, I could feel a roughness to my voice.
The next morning, I was reduced to whispers. Bad. Part of my day job involves occasionally using the phone. Couldn’t be done, with my ‘obscene phone call voice’! Spending two entire days trying not to talk was neither easy nor fun. To say that I talk a lot is an understatement.The absolute worst part of this whole ordeal was when the inevitable question would come—“So, how did you lose your voice?” To which I had no choice but to reply, in whispers, “I yelled at this door…” !