With the cold, there is silence.

Mr. TPG and I are sitting in our empty living room in camp chairs, both wearing our down jackets zipped high on our necks, computers on laps. When the temperatures in Carson City are supposed to be in the 70s or 80s by this time of year, we are stubbornly refusing to turn on the heat as it creeps into the 40s and 30s. However, the snow last night and the hail today threatens our resolve. Shall we endure and stay strong? We will have to see how desperate the cold night makes us.

One of the things I'm having a hard time getting used to in our new house, and new city, is the quietness of this place. Being in a house with space between us and the neighbors is a new thing for me. The first day we were here I tossed a suitcase onto the floor with a bang, and then immediately tensed up wondering if I had disturbed the neighbors above or below...but wait, there are no neighbors above or below us anymore! In fact, it gets so quiet in our house that it's hard to tell if I'm in Carson City or in a backcountry hut. After growing up in a city, and particularly after living in dense urban cities for the past six years, it's unnerving not to hear cars zip by, voices out on the street, or even a distant emergency siren. The noise of the city has become my white noise, and the quietness of this small city (town, to me) leaves me feeling uneasy, like this is the quiet before the storm or that there is something lurking out there in the dark quiet (creepy!). I suppose some might enjoy the peaceful silence of this place, and maybe I will eventually enjoy it myself, but for now it keeps me on edge with every bird chirp and gust of wind causing me to jump a bit.