So, I'm a free woman!

But I don't want to talk about that right now.

Instead, two things that I really want to talk about, but are impossible to explain in any words on this planet:

1. How much I hate T-Mobile.
2. How much I can't stand annoying noise.

How Much I Hate T-Mobile

Such a myriad of reasons, not the least of which is that they once tricked me into buying a year-long contract--that I couldn't get out of. Thirty dollars a month. For 12 months. I wanted to punch T-Mobile in the throat every time. Some months, that payment made me OVERDRAWN. For a CONTRACT I could not GET OUT OF.

(Full Disclosure: I'm using a T-Mobile connection to type this. And it's just as craptastic as every other connection I've ever used, thereby proving my point.)

But I HAD to. Kind of like how I HAD to go to Starbucks.

Because in Seattle, which is basically fueled by free wireless internet and bottomless cups of coffee as dark as our skies, both things--coffee and internet (and darkness) are in HEAVY supply. Four strong connections bleed over into my apartment. Capitol Hill is wired by the city. Every coffeeshop worth its salt offers free wi-fi.

And of course, the coffee kicks ASS.

Here in D.C., where I sit in Foggy Bottom after being released from my impending doom, the closest I can get to this feeling is, of course, the nearest Starbucks. Its internet is not free--TEN DAMN BUCKS for a Daypass--and the coffee is mediocre. But it's the closest fascimile to Home I can get. Yes, I could have gone to a Cosi for cheaper internet, and I probably should have. But the coffee. And the ATMOSPHERE. And the...the...it's like being home. It's a crappy imitation, yes. But it's as close to home as I can get right now. And since all I want to do for once in my life is go home, I'm a slave to Starbucks from now until I leave.

Sigh.

How Much I Hate Annoying Noise

This is even more difficult to describe, since it's, you know. Noise. And these are, you know, words. And if millions of poets since the dawn of time have still not succeeded in connecting words on a page directly to the other four senses--although some of them have come damn close--then who am I to try?

But I will anyway.

Okay. It's not noise, per se. After all, I live in a noisy area. Usually four or five sirens go by on a nightly basis. (Club Drug Overdoses, my favorite!) I love loud music. I like to shout when I talk. I like to scream when...well...you know. I'm a loud girl!

But I'm not repetitive. If repetitive noise starts to occur--be it an alarm clock, a smoke alarm--OH MY GOD THE NOISE THAT DROVE THIS POST JUST STARTED AGAIN AND I DON'T HAVE MY EARPHONES OH MY GOD MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP. Whew. Okay.

Sorry about that. Repetitive noise, as I was saying, does this thing to me. It makes the imp on the inside CLAW ITS WAY OUT OF MY BRAIN. MY BRAIN MATTER SHREDS BEFORE ITS FRANTIC CLAWING OH GOD MAKE IT STOP.

It would be safe to say that when the smoke alarm goes off, for example, I cannot focus on ANYTHING ELSE UNTIL I CAN MAKE IT GO OFF OH GOD MAKE IT STOP PLEASE I'LL DO ANYTHING.

Yes. It would be safe to say that I freak the fuck out. (The Kiwi was over just a few nights ago and watched this happen. He was calmly continuing his sentence, assuming it would turn itself off in a few minutes once the smoke dissipated, and I was screaming at him: WHAT ARE YOU DOING CAN'T YOU HEAR THE SMOKE ALARM OH GOD WHY ARE YOU STILL TALKING OH GOD YOU DON'T DESERVE TO BREATHE UNTIL YOU CAN STOP YOUR MONOLOGUE AND PAY ATTENTTION TO YOUR SURROUNDINGS FOR ONCE IN YOUR GODDAMN LIFE OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD THE SMOKE ALARM!

Perhaps it would be safe to say that in addition to the imp that CLAWS its way out of my brain, an army of small-brained mice runs around and around a cloistered piece of cheese while the water rises on a small family trapped in a boat and a twister descends on a tiny, defenseless town as the wind whips cows through the air. It's THAT BAD.

And I am not getting better about it, and I don't care.