I like quiet. If you want me to ignore you or turn away, yell at me.

When firetrucks, ambulances or cop cars turn their sirens on, my fingers go straight to my ears. Dogs barking — the worse, no the worse would be babies crying or that shriek that young girls can screech out.

I’m the weirdo one usually asking for the sound to be turned down —even on heavy metal or hard rock music, that only sounds good with the volume at 11.

I’m sensitive. I like it quiet.

The last few months have been very noisy and it isn’t the type of noise I’ve been able to walk away from.

My quest for quiet is full on.