Selective Hearing

“Honey bunches!” I called from the dining room to the kitchen yesterday afternoon.  “Can you please bring me the furniture polish and a rag?”

 

“WHAT?”  he yelled back.

 

(I would like take this opportunity to inform you that the distance between the dining room and the kitchen is approximately 10 feet.)

 

“BRING ME THE FURNITURE POLISH AND A RAG!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.

 

Dead silence.

 

A few seconds later, he bellowed, “I STILL DIDN’T HEAR YOU!”

 

“CLEAN OUT YOUR EARS!” I yelled impatiently.  “I NEED THE FURNITURE POLISH AND A RAG!”

 

He popped his head in the dining room and handed me a sponge and the bottle of toilet bowl cleanser.

 

I threw my hands up in exasperation and said, “Tell me what I asked you to bring me just now.”

 

He hung his head.  “I’m not sure.  I couldn’t hear you, so I just guessed.  How did I do?”

 

“HOW DO YOU THINK?” I yelled.  “I ASKED FOR FURNITURE POLISH AND A RAG!”

 

“Gee, someone’s in a bad mood today,” he muttered as he headed back into the kitchen and then added at the last minute before he disappeared, “AND IF YOU WOULDN’T MUMBLE, MAYBE I COULD HEAR YOU BETTER!”

 

I sighed. This hearing loss was causing some real communication issues in our marriage.  Last month, I asked him to bring me a trash bag and he brought me a sack of frozen hash browns. Just last week, I called him from my cell phone on the way home from the grocery store.

 

“Hi,” I said after he answered the phone.

 

“Mom?” he asked.

 

“IT’S YOUR WIFE!” I yelled into the mouthpiece.

 

“Whoever this is, I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” he shouted.

 

“IT’S THE WOMAN YOU’VE BEEN MARRIED TO FOR THE PAST 15 YEARS!” I screeched.

 

“What? You’re 15 minutes away or did you say you’re 15 years old?” he answered.

 

“IT’S YOUR W-I-F-E!” I yelled slower this time, spelling out the last word.

 

“If you just said, ‘Get a life’ to me, I think that’s really rude … whoever you are!” he replied.

 

Lucky for him, my cell phone provider’s large digital voice and data network that boasts of the least amount of disconnections of any other cell phone provider, disconnected me at that very moment.

 

After I walked in the front door a few minutes later, I didn’t see him anywhere.  I yelled, “I THINK YOU ARE THE MOST HANDSOME MAN I’VE EVER MET IN MY LIFE.”

 

I heard a reply from the basement.  “Thank you, honey! That’s so sweet of you to say.”

 

Then I shouted, “CAN YOU HELP ME CARRY IN THE GROCERY BAGS FROM MY CAR?”

 

Dead silence.

 

I rest my case.

 

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About Vicky DeCoster

Award-winning humor writer Vicky DeCoster is the author of "From Diapers to Dorkville," "Husbands, Hot Flashes, and All That Hullabaloo!" and "The Wacky World of Womanhood." She has been published in over 60 magazines, books, and on several web sites. Vicky lives in Nebraska with her husband and two children where she loves to laugh every day. Visit her at www.wackywomanhood.com.
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