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Allison Larkin

Internationally Best-Selling Author

You are here: Home / who are the people in your neighborhood / My New Neighbor

My New Neighbor

April 11, 2009 Filed Under: who are the people in your neighborhood, woodpeckers are bastards

Monday, I was settling in to do some editing, when I heard a noise that sounded a lot like a jackhammer off in the distance. I figured it would stop, but it didn’t. It felt like every time I started to type, the noise started again. Twenty-minutes later, I was starting to lose it. I walked to the other side of the house, and it got louder. It sounded closer than I’d originally thought, and less like a jackhammer. More like someone drilling metal.

I walked around the house (followed by my canine entourage) muttering “What the hell is Mrs. Gnome doing?” and cursing our house, our neighborhood, and lawn ornaments in general. I presumed that this was another bout of insane Gnome gardening. Maybe she was making some kind of bizarre hubcap altar for Water Jug Jesus? Sometimes, I’ve seen her head into the garden with a pick axe, and then I hear the sound of metal clanking on rock for the next two hours. Maybe she’d upgraded to a power tool?

My blood was boiling. I know the world isn’t going to be quiet for me just because I’m editing my book, but my neighborhood is full of retirees who devote inordinate amounts of time to making crazy noises outside (and covering every surface of the outdoors with carcinogen laden lawn chemicals, but that’s another story for another day) and it just gets old. It’s a raw nerve that is repeatedly poked. Some days, I want to stand in the front yard and yell “Your lawn doesn’t matter! Volunteer at the children’s hospital. Knit hats for the homeless. Deliver for Meals on Wheels. Start a book club. Develop a gambling habit. Do something productive (and quiet) with your time!” Some days, I think J worries I will.

Last week, my work was interrupted by my across the street neighbor gleefully sending the remains of a hedge through a wood chipper. FOR FOUR HOURS. After spending way too much time trying (unsuccessfully) to get visions of Steve Buscemi out of my head, I decided to go to the library to work, only to be interrupted there by a girl TALKING ON HER CELL PHONE IN THE LIBRARY and two boys looking at boobs in old issues of National Geographic.

I had been hoping for a few quiet days before everyone starts mowing their lawns ad infinitum, but there was Mrs. Gnome ruining the last few mower-free days by drilling metal. I stormed around the house working up the nerve to go outside and ask her if she could please drill metal some other time, except, after checking out her yard from the window, it didn’t look like she was outside.

The noise seemed to be happening at regular intervals. I could anticipate the next round of the drilling noise correctly most of the time. And as I walked around the house some more, I realized it sounded like the drilling noise was coming from the basement.

In the basement bathroom, I located the source of the sound (or at least, I thought I had). It was an air duct. I hit it hard with my fist and the sound stopped. I felt like an ass. Even though Mrs. Gnome didn’t know I’d been walking around my house blaming her for everything that had ever gone wrong in my life, I felt guilty.

All week, the noise would start and stop mysteriously. I did endless Google searches on “drilling noise in air duct,” and “jackhammer ductwork,” and any other combo that might describe the sound and the source. I joked on Facebook and Twitter that it sounded like there was a woodpecker in the ductwork. I decided the sound was caused by the recent drastic temperature changes and the wooden beams expanding, and that it happened when the heat kicked on, or was about to kick on, or had been on recently. I decided this was a reasonable explanation, and I put it in my head that J and I would look into ways to muffle the vibrations of the duct sometime over the weekend.

But then, yesterday, when the noise started up, J said it really sounded like it was coming from outside. We counted between the drillings the way you count out thunder and lightening and determined that it wasn’t happening at even intervals. Sometimes it took ten beats, sometimes nine, sometimes twelve. J slapped the bathroom window. The noise stopped. Something fluttered outside.

I ran outside, but I didn’t see anything. Then, I heard an awful cackle coming from the roof. I looked up to see our new neighbor, Mr. Woodpecker, staring down at me with his creepy black bird eyes. After doing some research, I discovered that woodpeckers like to peck on metal when looking for a mate because it makes a louder noise than wood does. This guy, it appears, has been hitting the air vents on the roof and side of the house (which is why the noise sounded like it was coming from different places all the time). When he pecks at one of the vents, it vibrates through the ducts and sounds like it’s coming from the basement, when he pecks at a different vent, it sounds like it’s coming from Mrs. Gnome’s yard.

This morning, I woke up to what sounded like someone drilling from inside our walls. I ran outside in my pj’s, barefoot to yell at the woodpecker. He stared at me from the roof, and I swear he laughed at me. I fear Mr. Woodpecker will never find a mate and go away. He’s obviously a bastard. Who would want him? I can only hope there’s a female woodpecker with low self-esteem trolling our neighborhood.

4 Comments

Comments

  1. equa yona(Big Bear) says

    April 11, 2009 at 3:31 pm

    That is such a cute image, you barefoot in jammies, cursing ol’ WP and shaking your tiny fist. Too cute.
    Try a ping pong gun or maybe a long range super soaker.

    Reply
  2. Reluctant Blogger says

    April 13, 2009 at 10:59 am

    awww poor woody!

    One good thing about having four children is that I am completely immune to noise. I simply don’t hear it. Someone was saying the other day that the crickets drove them insane and I thought “what crickets?” then when I concentrated, there they were, cricketing away!

    My children can be hollering and killing each other and I am oblivious.

    The only sound I can’t work through is radio commentary on football matches – can’t bear that for some reason.

    I hope you find peace soon. CAn’t you plug in an iPod and listen to soothing music?

    Reply
  3. Lara says

    April 13, 2009 at 4:04 pm

    I bet there’s a cancer-laden chemical that will chase that woodpecker away, but…well, you know.

    We had a woodpecker in our chimney once when I was growing up. That’s when my parents decided it was okay for their kids to curse because the situation was TOTALLY JUSTIFIED.

    Reply
  4. The Modern Gal says

    April 14, 2009 at 1:47 pm

    Wow. A horny woodpecker. The thought of that alone is just too much for me to handle right now.

    I hope you find some peace and quiet soon.

    Reply

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We are in the habit of starting and ending our day We are in the habit of starting and ending our days side by side in our lawn chairs, while the light rises or dims. It’s still chilly at the outer edges of the day. Sometimes Roxy shivers. I bought her a sweater, but she won’t wear it. Sometimes I try to wrap her in my jacket, but she’s not having that either, so I throw her ball and try to get her run and then she comes back to her chair, warm for a little longer. #dailyroxydog #huskychihuahua #dogssittinginchairs
“I got a secret I should tell. I’m going up to “I got a secret I should tell. I’m going up to heaven in a split pea shell.” ~ @petermulvey43 Words Too Small to Say
Happy as a dog in a freshly dug nap hole. #dailyro Happy as a dog in a freshly dug nap hole. #dailyroxydog #huskymixesofinstagram
I saw this little dresser at my favorite magic ant I saw this little dresser at my favorite magic antique store sometime in November and didn’t buy it. But then, of course, I kept thinking about her. She’s the perfect size for my office, and I found those drawer pulls hilarious. When I finally went back in December, I told myself I was shopping for wall art, because I assumed she would be gone. But she was right where I’d seen her last: balanced on another dresser with boxes of old picture frames and tchotchkes piled on top (the true mark of a magic antique store). I didn’t even realize she had a towel rack — that she was a wash stand, not a dresser — until I asked about the price, said I’d take her, and my favorite magic antique store person asked if we needed to unscrew the towel rack to fit her in my car. I suspect this little sweetie is not from the days of necessary wash stands so much as from a country kitchen in the 80s. She was in rough shape, and not made from wood worth stripping and re-staining, but her price reflected that. I had to disassemble that door and put it back together, but I’d been in the market for some experience working with old furniture, and she made me feel brave about trying. I thought about painting her something more neutral, but I’m so glad I didn’t. She deserves to be pink. She’s not perfectly painted and needs a few touch ups. I learned some things about chalk paint and finishes. The drawers stick a bit. Eventually, I’d like to line them with fabric and when I do, I might plane the edges to smooth things out. But goodness, I love her in a way that I wouldn’t if I hadn’t spent time cleaning away her cobwebs and scrubbing the grime from her hilarious drawer pulls. She’s also become a little shrine for the book I’m working on, which makes me love her even more. I’ve always been a person who sees some soul in certain things, and I’m learning to cherish that idiosyncrasy, because there’s so much joy to be found in a brave little toaster or an underdog wash stand. We’re not here in the world for all that long. We may as well love some bright little things. #furnituremakeover
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I truly don’t understand how anyone is this cute I truly don’t understand how anyone is this cute. I never get used to it. There’s no immunity. She’s adorable beyond what pictures can capture. #dailyroxydog #huskymixesofinstagram #ilovemydog
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