Aging brings with it so many changes! Our bodies begin to fight back against what our brain is trying to tell us. Our brain says, “I want to jog!” and our body snarls back with, “Screw you, I’m taking a nap.” A mutiny in the making.
I’m finding that as I get older my hearing isn’t what it used to be. In some cases this can be a good thing. When someone (namely my husband) asks me what’s for dinner I can ignore his question under the pretense that I’m hard of hearing. If you hate to cook as much as I do this can come in handy.
My husband is a rather soft spoken man so it can be a challenge at times to hear what he’s saying.
For instance, he says, “It’s snowing outside.” I hear, “There’s a bow on your hide.” (It would take a mighty big bow to cover this hide.)
He says, “Did we get any mail today?” I hear, “Did we get any tail today?” (I beg your pardon? If you don’t know then I sure as hell am not going to tell you.)
He says, “What’s on TV tonight?” I hear, “What’s that pee on the light?” I look at him like he’s crazy because that question makes no sense.
My husband has the unintentional habit of talking to me when his back is turned. I’ve asked him not to do this because all I can hear is “erleham idiafhd, yclhsd.” He sometimes talks to me when the TV is on and I’m running the vacuum. I can’t hear myself think much less what he’s saying.
When I use my cell phone I have to employ my Bluetooth so I can hear. I wonder if I can have one surgically attached to my ear. It might be a bit hard to recharge the battery though. A side effect to the Bluetooth is that when it’s in use it blinks. It looks like I have a blinking, blue Christmas light under my hair. When I first got it, it took me a while to figure out why people were looking at me oddly. The next time it happens I should look around, tap my ear and say, “Beam me up Scotty.”
When I encounter a soft spoken person in public I pretty much make a fool out of myself. I try to read lips but come off as some kind of creepy goon staring at the person’s mouth with great intensity. I think I scare people.
One interesting thing about my auditory ability is that I may not be able to hear you talk but I can hear you chew. Late at night, when it’s quiet, I swear I can hear Russian Prime Minister Vladimir Putin eating Kournik from across the pond.
Got a drippy faucet? I can hear it. Dog licking himself…yeah, I can hear that too. But try and tell me that the refrigerator is making a funny noise and I have to stick my head in the freezer to confirm it.
The next time I go to the doctor I’m going to request a hearing test. I’m tired of missing out on things. Like when I’m outside walking to the bird feeder and my husband says, “Watch out for the dog poop!” but I don’t hear him and by then it’s too late. I look at my shoe, see what’s happened and get royally pissed, yelling at him because he didn’t warn me. God love him.
There’s a saying that our hearing is the first to go. If that’s the case then it’s all downhill from here. (Now there’s a comforting thought.) But I’ve adjusted by blaming the whole thing on others. If people would just speak up and not eat within a ten mile radius of me then all would be right with the world.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I hear a whistling sound and I think my toilet is ringing.