PJMedia Around two years ago my wife and I decided we’d had enough of big city living. The clincher was a massive construction project directly across the street that forced me to wear industrial-grade ear mufflers indoors in a feeble attempt to drown out the sound of blasting, hoe-ramming, drilling, power-shovel clanking and the crazy-making repetitive back-up beeping of tractors, trucks and cement mixers. After some searching we found a house in the stunningly beautiful Thousand Islands region of eastern Ontario, and wasted little time moving in. The house was exactly what we had been looking for, set back from the road in a treed-in hollow that even visitors with GPS devices had trouble locating. But like any recently purchased dwelling it came with a range of small problems that needed attending. Within a few weeks everything had been more or less sorted out, except for an annoying electrical hum that rarely ceased and often kept us awake at night—another form of sound pollution that persisted in haunting us.

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