Wherever we go, whatever we do, we are audibly accosted by beeps, peeps, pings, and chirps. Tweets, too, but that’s a different matter.
A friend mentioned this recently and now I can’t get it out of my head.
Our house beeps to tell us we have intruders, that the smoke detector needs a new battery, that the toast is done, the coffee is hot, the printer has balked (again), a text has arrived, the clothes are dry.
The Mister’s new car has its own set of beeps and pings. Warning, alerting, demanding. Annoying.
Beeps are a bit like naughty children. Tend to their needs and they’ll go away. But they’ll be back. Soon.
This morning I heard a beep. Then another. I was initially alarmed. What’s wrong now? Can it be fixed and how soon? I looked for the source, ready to do battle. What I found was a little bird, happily peeping away in a nearby tree.
To mis-quote T. S. Eliot: “Is this the way the world ends? Not with a bang or a whimper but a beep?”