The Beeping Story
In the comments section of my post about changing rooms someone talked about how cleansing the experience could be, especially when there had been people in the room before you. This is truth.
I took over my room in October of 2001. Right after 9/11 the teacher who started the year had to leave in a hurry (her husband was a desert survival teacher and got orders elsewhere), and she’d only been in the room for a year, so there were cabinets filled with 30 years of accumulated crap. It was impenetrable. I took one look and closed the door, thinking I’d get to cleaning it up later.
Continued below!
Then the damned beeping started, every afternoon at around 5:00. The room would be quiet, I’d be slogging away on what needed to be done, then softly from one of the cupboards I’d hear it….
Beep beep…..beep beep…..beep beep….
It was like you’d hear from a digital watch that had its alarm set.
The first couple of times I let it go, but I hate sounds like that. Ticking clocks, dripping faucets, beeping things. One day I resolved to do something about it, but by the time I walked across the room and got into the cabinet, the beeping would stop.
That pattern repeated itself for weeks.
Beep beep….beep beep….
“Aw crap….I need to find that thing….”
(open) (shuffle) “Where the hell is it coming from?”
(and now silence, because I didn’t make it in time)
This became my mission. I would find the beeping. I HAD to find the beeping, for my own sake. So one day I wrote myself a note, and at the designated time I had the cabinets open, ready to spring into action.
Then the phone rang, and the beeping happened while I talked.
I was prepared again the next day. The beeping began and I tore into the cabinet that I thought it was coming from.
And found nothing.
Day 3 of Operation: Bleep the Beep I took every single box out of the cabinets, emptied their contents out on the floor, and waited.
Finally, success. The clock was in an old shoebox with some reading flashcards. Turned off the alarm, and peace was restored.
Except that I had boxes and materials all over the room. I shoved them back in the cupboard and didn’t look at them again until I threw them away three years later. It was good to do.
I took over my room in October of 2001. Right after 9/11 the teacher who started the year had to leave in a hurry (her husband was a desert survival teacher and got orders elsewhere), and she’d only been in the room for a year, so there were cabinets filled with 30 years of accumulated crap. It was impenetrable. I took one look and closed the door, thinking I’d get to cleaning it up later.
Continued below!
Then the damned beeping started, every afternoon at around 5:00. The room would be quiet, I’d be slogging away on what needed to be done, then softly from one of the cupboards I’d hear it….
Beep beep…..beep beep…..beep beep….
It was like you’d hear from a digital watch that had its alarm set.
The first couple of times I let it go, but I hate sounds like that. Ticking clocks, dripping faucets, beeping things. One day I resolved to do something about it, but by the time I walked across the room and got into the cabinet, the beeping would stop.
That pattern repeated itself for weeks.
Beep beep….beep beep….
“Aw crap….I need to find that thing….”
(open) (shuffle) “Where the hell is it coming from?”
(and now silence, because I didn’t make it in time)
This became my mission. I would find the beeping. I HAD to find the beeping, for my own sake. So one day I wrote myself a note, and at the designated time I had the cabinets open, ready to spring into action.
Then the phone rang, and the beeping happened while I talked.
I was prepared again the next day. The beeping began and I tore into the cabinet that I thought it was coming from.
And found nothing.
Day 3 of Operation: Bleep the Beep I took every single box out of the cabinets, emptied their contents out on the floor, and waited.
Finally, success. The clock was in an old shoebox with some reading flashcards. Turned off the alarm, and peace was restored.
Except that I had boxes and materials all over the room. I shoved them back in the cupboard and didn’t look at them again until I threw them away three years later. It was good to do.
posted by Ryan at 8:02 AM
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