I have got to find my hearing aids. They’re missing, not lost. The difference is that I have a better chance of finding them if they’re just missing. Lost … they might forever stay lost. You know, like the Lost Boys in Peter Pan, they might be banished to Neverland.
My hearing aids will probably cost just a shade under $3,000 — and that’s just my cost. Thank God I have insurance.
I’m getting tired of hearing just bits and pieces of conversations, if I hear them at all. On Sunday, our vicar at St. George’s said that I did a beautiful reading, and I did a knee-jerk type of reply — “And you did a wonderful sermon.” And I’m sure it was because the Rev. Pat’s sermons are always very good.
I’m trying to fake that I’m hearing what other people are saying to me by nodding occasionally and smiling a lot. But I live in fear that someday someone will be saying, “And it was such a tragic loss because the whole house burnt down.” Or “And the death was so tragic.” And there I’ll be smiling like I love fires or doom and gloom.
I was at a Publishing Club meeting recently talking with Nancy Brown, the club’s president, when she reminded me to get my nametag. So I walked out to the sign-in table, and the only words that came out clearly to me were “strip search.” Again, a knee-jerk reply, “Oh, me, me … I volunteer. I’ll do it.” Everyone at the table laughed, so I think you can see that they’re a fun bunch of people. I heartily recommend that you check out the club sometime.
Lucy has finally figured it all out. If she needs to go out, she starts by wagging her tail, and I get the drift. But if I’m not looking, she starts barking extremely loudly. She turns up the volume a lot. So now it’s “bark, bark, bark … dang it, woman … let me out!”
About the only good thing about not having my hearing aids is that life is very peaceful, because I hear only about 20% of it. Hopefully, it’s the important bits.
“What’s…
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