“So what do you know about soundproofing?” I ask Desi Brother and file my nails.
They no longer hurt – all the rawness is gone. They are now smooth – all the ragged and jagged edges are gone. They are now all one length – so they no longer look like defective nubs. This is why I can shape them, not the perfect squares the manicurist could make, but somewhat respectable semi-circles. And I have a nice light pink polish I want to paint them.
“More than most, less than the experts. What does he want to do now?” Desi Brother asks. “He can hear the neighbor’s television through the wall. In another room he had the contractor rip the wall open and I measured - we have less than an inch – 15/16” to be exact. And 1/16” matters…I know,” I reply. “Yes, I know you know – does he that 1/16” makes a difference?” Desi Brother asks. “I think so,” I say and sigh.
“Okay so what does the wall consist of now?” Desi Brother asks. “Sheetrock. And these are old buildings that share bearing walls. And I don’t want to do anything to the structure. Too messy,” I reply. “I have some ideas. QuietRock to begin. Let’s see what thickness it comes in and go from there. I’ll call you back,” Desi Brother says and hang-up.
I put the landline back into the cradle and grab the mobile phone to send a text to Town and Country, letting him know I will have options to him later today.
Immediately, a Text from Town and Country: What is wrong?
Text from Desi Girl: What do you mean? Do you need info sooner?
Text from Town and Country: No, tonight is fine. I mean last night. You were weird. You got withdrawn and just left.
Text from Desi Girl: Was I? I must be tired from moving. (Yes, I lie to him).
Text from Town and Country: That’s it? Nothing else?
Text from Desi Girl: No. Just tired. (I mean … YES … I think I may be in love with you and since I so rarely fall for anyone – I can count on my left hand how many men I have fallen for - but it doesn’t seem like going “all girl” on him is a good idea, since he does seem to exhibit the same depth of feeling for me. And yes, maybe I should tell him that I can no longer do this because my personal and professional feelings just got all muddy. But I like the work. And I like him.)
Text from Town and Country: Ok. Good. Wanted to make sure. You’re important to me.
In what sense? Please don’t get hit by a cab because I like you. Or please don’t get hit by a cab until you research my sheetrock? Ugh.