My dryer is squeaking out a very brisk, “Where the wind blows! Where the wind blows!”
Behind the squeakiness is the sound of its drum rolling, a cozy sound counterbalancing the frenzied, “Where the wind blows! Where the wind blows!”
The thrumming of the drum makes it possible for me to not mind the squeak so much, though part of me feels like I should stand, ramrod straight, with baton in hand, and conduct this weird orchestra. But no, I need more than a drum and a squeak. Perhaps my dishwasher would like to join in? I noticed it making some strange sounds earlier. But that’s for another day.
I just want to make note of the fact that I’m keeping record. There’s some kind of message being sent my way, and I’ll decode it because I’m paying attention.