Tom and I recorded our first podcast in almost four years. It was vaguely familiar, adjusting the microphone and enlarging my notes on the screen in front of me, but I did forget how to adjust the seat and ended up bouncing up and down a few times to get it right. We certainly enjoyed ourselves, and were even able to (mostly) ignore the noises upstairs—there were plenty of adults there to take care of whatever was needed.
Noises are a constant in my home. Even now, as I write this, my noise-cancelling headset does not cancel out the dishwashing with “Immortals” playing on the speakers behind me, the ukulele strumming on my right, the dog scrambling after the cat (who is hardly amused), or my two youngest getting their bedtime stories read. That’s how I write: in the in-betweens, little dips here and there, in the midst of an orchestral life alternating melody and cacophony. If I waited until my environment was perfectly silent for a better recording, I’d be sharing thick night hours wi…