Hitting the Ground Running Each Morning

I barely can believe my ears.  What?  I said barely could I believe my ears.  What?  My ears.  Are they yelling?  No  Are they burning?  No.  I don't think anyone is talking about me.  My ears.  They are at rest for a change.  I mean a HUGE change.  Where I live each day when I am vaulted awake either it is a humming diesel-electric locomotive sitting on the tracks at 5:30 a.m., a strafing aircraft from a variety of sources, yard maintenance noise, garbage trucks, or barking dogs.  Clearly I have been able to hear them despite having had completely new vinyl windows and siding affixed to our sixty year old house.  What was the culprit?  The culprit was a little window-mounted air conditioner that sat in a window facing downtown Fayetteville.  Through its crevice came these annoying sounds.  It was multifold.  Not only did sound seem to penetrate through the very bowels of the machine itself, also it permeated the thin wood borders fashioned to seal the window shut.  Wood has a R insulation value of 1.  One.  Let me say it again.  One.  To aid the problem I had made styrofoam panels covered with plastic  that were the same size as the wood panels.  They did little good.  Today was the day I chose to remove this pesky noise conduit because the chilling temperatures of winter are upon us.  No longer did I need its back up temperature moderator.  I can open the other window and with a rather efficient hand-mounted dual propeller fan cool the room in a matter of minutes.  The air conditioner had to go.  Who knew the surprising result it would yield.  Today is the first day in many weeks I can look at the computer monitor and see the type clearly.  My all ready hindered eyesight is not being effected more by the waves of low frequency sound coming from CSX-T, the Norfolk and Southern, and the Abereen and Rockfish.  Secondly today is the first day I can hear the classical sounds coming from WCPE radio clearly and uninhibited.  I have been tweaking my antiquated stereo system for months, but until you limit that unwanted interfering infrasound the music will not be clear.  A better term is "unmodulated."  It is a joy, and only can I laugh at the rude dog across the street that barks at me in my closed garage.  I can laugh at the sounds of all those parking automobiles.  I can laugh at those antagonizing helicopters who seem to care little about who they disturb in the course of their work.  I have found from experience that all good things come to and end.  If you celebrate to pompously surely your neighbors will find some way to eliminate your newly found serenity.  I will not hold my breath, but I can say emphatically for two years my personal solace has been breached like a sleeping seven-year-old's buttocks.  Is life supposed to be this difficult?