Wednesday, April 3, 2013

A Fetish


I am not sure why they don’t drive me crazy.  My husband has a fetish for chimes.  Yes, chimes.   A couple hang in a nearby tree, while the other four suspend from hardware designed to hang from the eaves.  All are situated outside our bedroom.  Some are metal, others are bamboo, some duplicate buoys out at sea. If you close your eyes you would swear you were in church listening to the deep tones of an organ-the newest arrival.

He started with one.  During visits, his father would comment about how the chimes drove him crazy.  Soon there were a half a dozen.  Thankfully, they don’t drive me crazy.  I am not sure that that would alter my husband’s odd delight with chimes.

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