Traffic Woes

Sometimes, trying to sleep in this house, is an exercise in futility. We live on the corner of a thoroughfare of traffic either trying to get to the freeway, or trying to get away from the freeway. No matter which way you slice the traffic pie, there's little discretion on the drivers' part as they fly down the hill towards our place, or away from our place. It matters little to them how fast they approach the intersection, or scream away from it. To top it off, two sides of the corner have a big dip in the road, so we get to be privy to crunching underbellies, as they race towards or away from the stop sign. The stop sign might as well be a suggestion. No one stops for it. They just slow down, check to see who else with whom they can play "Thread the needle", and sail on through. Then there are the emergency vehicles, which enjoy exercising their sirens on their way to and from various emergencies. Fire trucks, ambulance, police. Sometimes all in a matter of minutes. Sometimes, they seem to get lost, because they holler all the way up the street, and then turn around and holler all the down the street. To add to the excitement, at various times, we have been witness to a variety of road incidents. People crashing into the fence, as they fail to negotiate the corner. Trucks losing loads off the back of their flatbeds. People stopping their vehicles to have altercations with others. Or old friends who pass each other as they meet at the corner, who pull over to catch up on all the news about great Aunt Betty. It's very entertaining. Especially late at night, when there's nothing to do, but lie there and listen.
During the day, the issue isn't as critical. At night, when you have fallen into bed, exhausted, and at the point where sleep melts over you like chocolate sauce on an ice cream cone, it can be a problem to have a front row seat to all the drama.
Last night, I was acutely aware of the street-side hullabaloo. That is, until one o'clock in the morning, when I suddenly noticed the extraneous noise stopped for for minutes at a time. I wasn't' sure which bothered me more. The noise from engine brakes a few minutes earlier, or the absolute silence which descended like a fog on a pasture in Ireland. I drifted off in a trouble state. I hoped I could overcome the unusual lullaby of a still night. I managed to find a few minutes of rest, before I was woken by the flashing lights of traffic trucks putting up some sort of roadside signs. They were silent, but effective at making my window into a disco ball of sorts. Then, at four-fifty eight, the commuter traffic began, and the night ended as it began -with the roar of traffic.
Sometimes, I want to put up a sign at the corner. PEOPLE, WE CAN HEAR YOU! I bet no one would be able to read it. They would be going too fast through the intersection, in their pursuit of saving a few minutes on their arrival time.
I console myself with this thought: Our next house is in a rural area too, but it is in a hidden community and the traffic is more sparse. Having got this off my chest, I am going back to bed to try to get some sleep again, because in twenty minutes, my daughter will be using the shower in the main bathroom, which is next door to our bedroom, to get ready for work.