Serenity Now!

The Algorithm has a special bead on me. In addition to filling my social media feed with political content and monetary dysphobia it also peppers me with listicles like: 10 things that happen to men as they get older.

Nine of them didn't apply as I have lost weight, not gained weight. And my bone density is increasing due to my disciplined iron pumping. Though I no longer try to lift beyond my capabilities because I don't want to risk another hernia. And the sight of a racquetball-sized lump where my belt buckle should be.

However, as the author noted, my hearing has become annoyingly sensitive. Like the aliens in The Quiet Place, a surprisingly good movie. At least the first one was.

My Spidey Sense tells me that my superhuman aural capacity is because, like many other aging men, I need to have something to be peeved about. Think about it. I don't work. I live alone. I can come and go as I please. And the dishes can pile up in the sink for as long as I like. Or until I'm expecting a visit from Ms. Muse.

So, and not to be too trivial here, I am like the blind man whose senses have overcompensated. Thus, I can hear my neighbor's (heretofore known as Meth Head) angry Malinois barking from 300 yards away. It's true. 

I live in a Mayberry RFD type neighborhood, where almost every household has a dog: big dogs, little dogs, yappy dogs. I hear them all the time. None of them bother me. They go unnoticed  like the overhead jets approaching LAX and fly less than 10,000 feet above my head. 

But I can distinguish Meth Head's dog like an incessant Siren Song that sends my blood pressure higher than a live volcano.

You may think I'm exaggerating, but with the recent rumors that he and his loser brother may be leaving the house, I have made it a point to walk my dog -- who never barks -- on his street and chat up some of the neighbors. Turns out they too take issue with the abused old nag of a dog. One went on to call him, "The Cancer of the neighborhood." 

So yes, I've become a grumpy old man, but I'm not the only grumpy one in the vicinity.

While I eagerly await the moving truck pulling up on Motor Ave., there is some relief. In the form of The World's Finest Natural Ear Plugs. They're made of inert bee's wax. They feel like a stiff clay between your fingers. And once passed the prodigious ear hair, and pushed down as far as they can go, the outside world can become a distant memory.

As the packaging indicates, they're mighty. And mighty expensive. And, most importantly, mighty effective.

Good Night Meth Head.