I Want My Brain Back

I want my brain back….

Two days, yes two days of driving around in my car and hearing a rattling sound that definitely should not be present. I turned my car inside out in an attempt to locate the offending noise and honestly I felt like I was going crazy. I removed coins and breath mints and a seatbelt cutter. I moved bottles of water and bits of debris. I shook the dashboard and looked under the seats. I drove in stealth mode to see if I could creep up on the rattle and somehow catch it unawares. I taped down a flappy bit of trim that I am waiting to repair and I jiggled the steering wheel and searched for metal clips that might be loose in the air vents. People, I am serious about my sense of peace when I am driving, although you would never know it if you had witnessed the aforementioned search of my car. Most  crime scene forensic teams have nothing on my powers of sleuthing. 

Vowing not to be beaten I broke for lunch and on returning to my car I decided to give it one more try. The real issue is that I have supersonic hearing now that I wear hearing aids and that also means I hear way more than I want to, or indeed should. Fearing that I might be late for work, I abandoned my search, feeling somewhat defeated. As I sped towards my destination the rattle mocked me incessantly and as I changed direction, the sun pierced the sky ever so briefly, but at the same time, warranting the use of my visor. Reaching for my visor, it soon became pretty clear that it was not clipped in place and once more I found myself incredulous that the thing that had sneered at me for two whole days was literally right in front of my face. Really Lesley? I was so distracted searching for a culprit that I did not consider my humble visor practically at the same level as my hearing aids. No wonder it sounded like a pile of dishes clanking together in a poorly designed box. I wanted to rip the stupid thing off its hinges and teach it a lesson but then the repair job would be hard to explain to the service tech or indeed my husband. A few deep breaths later and the offending piece of equipment was stowed correctly and, I might add quietly back where it belonged. 

It's at these moments in my life where I have to look in the mirror, and in this case the rearview mirror, and laugh at my own ridiculousness. You can't make this stuff up.