On Aging: The Upside to Bad Hearing

So the other day I ranted about my husband's crappy hearing: I'll think I'm conversing with him only to realize he's not heard a word I say. 

But there's an upside! (Yes, this week I'm all about the rose-colored view of the world.) (And, yes, that's no different than any other week.) To wit:

 I mean, come on! Would YOU want passersby gawking at you? 

I mean, come on! Would YOU want passersby gawking at you? 

We're remodeling our front porch (to make it more conducive to being outside during hot Iowa summers). So yesterday, The Husband and I are in the yard, trying to determine where to put some "visual barriers" (aka "fencing"). We'd been over and over and over this topic for months and mostly The Husband did what he always does: Stonewall in hopes I'll give up on a plan that requires spending money.

But now it's crunch time. Construction starts in three weeks. We gotta get our design act together.

So there we are in the yard, discussing where and how to install fencing. Except . . . we're arguing. Because see above: The Husband hates spending money. And since he's hard of hearing, I'm forced to shout to make myself heard (because he's standing five feet away). 

And he's being his usual recalcitrant, obstructive self. he's walking around pointing here and there and explaining what we should do. Blah blah blah. I'm getting more and more pissed off. I'm angry. I'm yelling. In fact, I'm shouting at the top of my voice, using the word "fuck" approximately every seven seconds.

 Would YOU want to stare at the side of the house next door? Of course not. You're sensible.

Would YOU want to stare at the side of the house next door? Of course not. You're sensible.

But suddenly! I realize. If I speak in a normal tone of voice, he can't hear a word I'm saying. So I stand there and let loose with what I REALLY THINK ABOUT HIS OBNOXIOUS BULLHEADEDNESS. The words pour from my mouth.

It's glorious! I can say anything I want! He can't. hear. a. word.

Not "Goddamnit, you son of a bitch. How many fucking times have I TOLD you where I want to run that piece of fence." 

Not "I told you this a half dozen times over the past three months and you never heard a FUCKING WORD I SAID because you're deaf and stubborn." 

Not "Jesus CHRIST, but you drive me insane, you cantankerous old bastard! For two cents, I'd punch you in the nose."

 Yes, I love him.

Yes, I love him.

Glorious, I tell you. And soooo cathartic. I felt so much better. And we avoided a major fight.

So. The upside to bad hearing. You heard it here first.