“What’s that buzz?” I thought to myself as I headed into our bedroom.
It sounded like it was around the corner in the bathroom.
The buzz continued.
Immediately, visions of mice eating electrical insulation filled my head. We’d spotted a few in the garage and who knows what they’d been up to lately with Oreo, our cat, gone. This could be a huge problem — maybe even a fire about to burst from behind the walls!
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I called for backup.
“Well, it’s not in the attic,” Bill called from his perch on the ladder. "The buzz isn’t downstairs either and a breaker didn’t pop, so I’m going to go watch CSI.”
What? We had a hair-raising situation of our own! Who needs to watch an investigative TV show when we had our own probing to do.
I clicked off the lights.
There were enough episodes under my belt to know that was the first step. The only thing missing was a flashlight, but I couldn’t remember where I put it.
The buzz persisted.
I dropped to my knees crawling silently forward, senses heightened. There was the smell of smoke, I was sure of it! But in the darkness I soon realized I was poking about near the dirty socks hamper.
The search was spine-tingling. Obviously, I’d been in this crouched position too long. But being the super sleuth in search of an answer, nothing could deter me. So, after putting an ear to the toilet, I crept toward the cabinets below the sink.
The buzz was louder.
With both cabinet doors open, I did what any scrutinizing woman would do. I paused to organize toilet paper rolls and tissue boxes.
It was then that I noticed that the sound seemed to be coming from just above my shoulder. I raised my head.
The buzz nearly screamed in my ear.
With a careful hand I opened the cabinet drawer.
I peered in.
My fingers grasped the source...
Bill’s nose-hair trimmer that whirred in the silence. The buzz!
It was much ado about nothing! The picture I’d drawn — our house going up in flames any minute — was a totally wrong conclusion.
All because of the buzz.
This ridiculous incident reminds me of another kind of “buzz” I’ve experienced — gossip — that can create imaginary fires that need to be put out. Stories are created, observations are drawn, and emotions run wild.
Often, the source of the “buzz” may be a benign comment innocently made at the office, or even at church.
So with that thought in mind, if someone asks me, “What’s the buzz?” I think it would be best to keep my nose out of it.
There’s a good chance it could turn into a hairy situation.