It’s about 5 p.m. on a Thursday. Dinnertime is not usually a point in the evening which requires silence, but nor is it a time which requires the sound of 300 baby gazelles learning to walk for the first time.
The Clomp Clomps appear to disagree. It goes on for a bit, and I wonder whether they’ve put roller-skates on the gazelles for added effect. There certainly seems to be enough banging combined with the sound of footsteps crisscrossing the apartment.
And then, quite honestly, I lost it. It is simply unnatural to make that amount of noise.
I grabbed the bicycle seat resting on the ground next to my closet, as one does, and strode into the living room. I lifted my leg and climbed onto the arm of the armchair. Balancing carefully, I repeatedly rammed the seat into the ceiling with extreme force.
I’m no expert in physics, in fact I am almost quite literally the opposite, but I learned a lesson today. An object in motion (especially angry motion) will remain in motion and be acted upon by the equal or greater force that is gravity.
The rapid punches to the ceiling affected my balance and suddenly I toppled backwards, free-falling from a height of about two feet off the ground. The level of panic that gripped me in those few moments of falling was tremendously high. I saw a small amount of my life flash before my eyes. I wasn’t impressed.
Then, I stopped falling. Quite abruptly. I did not hit the floor, though. In a move of extreme grace, as I flailed my limbs, I managed to land directly into the seat of the chair next to me. I was completely unharmed, as were the chairs and the bicycle seat.
There is not a doubt in my mind that I could not execute such an amazing move again in my life, even if I was actively trying.
Now, I know that the Clomp Clomps didn’t see this happen, but following the incident they were remarkably quiet for all of an hour and half. I count that as a victory.