I had a big realization last week: I can sing in the shower now.

My whole life so far, I’ve either lived with other people or lived with walls that connected to other people’s homes. My house in Texas was a townhouse, and because builders like to put all the plumbing together, the bathroom walls always seem to be where units intersect. I could hear when my neighbors flushed or had the shower on, so I was hesitant to sing in the shower.

At least in that house the living room didn’t connect to anyone else’s home, and I was my own upstairs neighbor, so I didn’t have to worry much about TV volume, and I could generally sing in my living room or the upstairs loft without worrying about bothering neighbors.

Then I moved here and spent a year in an apartment where I could hear every sound my upstairs neighbors made, so I was hesitant to make any sounds at all. I didn’t dare sing (unless the neighbors were being particularly noisy and obnoxious), and I didn’t even say anything when talking on the phone that I wouldn’t want them to hear.

But in this house, my walls don’t touch anyone else’s walls. There’s a good 20 feet between my house and the neighbors’ homes on either side, with trees in between. I can’t even see the house behind mine because it’s up such a steep hill that their floor is about even with my roof, and there are a lot of trees in the way. While I was in the shower, I realized that I could sing and no one could hear me. It was so liberating to just let myself cut loose and enjoy the acoustics from a small space with all that tile, plus the warm, moist air that’s good for the vocal cords. Now I try to remember to sing when I’m in the shower.

I’ve started singing in choir again recently, so this is good for helping me get my voice back in shape. I’d started drifting away from choir even before the pandemic. I’d missed choir for a month or so after a bad cold that left me with a lingering cough, and the director didn’t seem to notice, so I wasn’t exactly feeling the love, and I wasn’t enjoying a lot of the music we were doing. Then the pandemic hit, and I hadn’t felt motivated to go back before I ended up moving. I’ve had to switch denominations because there’s really only one church in town that has a big music program and a lot of activities, but it’s an Episcopal church and I’m Methodist. The Methodists are actually an offshoot of the Anglican/Episcopal church and the services aren’t that different from what I’m used to. It’s a historic church. The congregation pre-dates the American Revolution (and there are graves that old in the churchyard), but the current “new” building dates from around 1850. It’s a local tourist attraction, largely because of the architecture and the fact that the stained glass windows are from the Tiffany workshop, with one even signed by Tiffany himself. The choir loft is in the rear of the church, in the loft with the pipe organ, and it’s like sitting inside the organ when it plays. The acoustics are amazing, and the church is often used as a performing arts venue for classical concerts. Buildings designed before there were microphones tend to work that way.

For the summer, they have a “just show up Sunday morning” choir, and I’ve been going to that, and I think I’ll ease into choir when it starts up in the fall. I’ve had to switch parts because they have too many sopranos and need altos, and I’m the kind of soprano who can sing alto (both having a good low range and the ability to read music and find notes).

So, I’ve started singing again, whether singing around the house or in the shower, and I’m getting back some of the joy I used to find in it that I’d lost.

One other fun thing I’ve realized about this house: It’s the first time in my adult life that my address has been just a street number without a unit number attached to it. I’m having to be careful when filling out online forms to change my address to be sure to erase what’s in the “unit number” field because the autofill doesn’t necessarily do that, even as it changes the street address.

This is also the first time I’ve been responsible for yard work, which is its own story. We’ve been having daily afternoon storms, so the grass is growing like crazy, but the grass is also never dry, making it harder to trim it. As soon as the sun dries it enough, it starts raining again. I call it the Daily Deluge. I’m planning to spend the fall and winter getting rid of weeds, then plant something to replace the grass in the spring, but I still have to get through this summer with the patches of grass I have among all the weeds.