The Birds

Sedaris in this week's New Yorker: The latest Kate Bush CD includes a song called "Aerial," and one spring afternoon Hugh sat down to listen to it. In the city, I'm forever nagging him about the volume. "The neighbors!" I say. But out in Normandy I have to admit that it's me who's being disturbed. The music I can usually live with—it's the lyrics I find irritating, especially when I'm at my desk and am looking for a reason to feel distracted. If one line ends with, say, the word "stranger," I'll try to second-guess the corresponding rhyme. "Danger," I'll think, then, No, wait, this is a Christmas album: "manger." The word will be "manger."