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April 6, 2001

Mel was miffed when I left the house this morning. Lately, we've had a series of miscommunications which my husband insists are because I am hard of hearing and won't admit it.

It's become a minor crisis over the past couple of years. It started out with little things, like when he'd say, "Mornin' hon," and didn't hear my reply, so he'd say it again louder. I'd reply a second time, "Good morning," and he'd just grunt.

Then it got to where he'd wait until I was downstairs in the laundry room, with the dryer going, or up stairs (we have a tri-level house) in the bathroom, out of earshot, and he'd start yelling something from the kitchen or the den. I would holler back, but of course, he couldn't hear me because I can't roar like him. Sometimes, I scrambled to get close enough to make out what he was saying and for him to hear my reply. After a while, I started ignoring him, figuring if it was important enough to say, he could come find me. When he started having to get up out of his recliner, he insisted I was going deaf.

Mel's not the most patient fellow in the world, so when I'm in closer proximity and don't answer him in a nano-second, he yells again, tacking on a comment like, "Didn't you hear me callin' yew? I swear, yew need to git a hearin' aid!" Same thing when he asks me something while I'm brushing my teeth or eating and I can't immediately answer, which, incidently, is his favorite time to interrogate me. (Or he waits until he's brushing his teeth or has his mouth full to ask me something, and when I can't understand him, he claims it's because I'm hard of hearing.)

Another habit of Mel's is talking over my responses, so I don't understand what he says. When he has to repeat himself, he blames it on my failing ears. Then there's the added problem of his manner of speech, which I'll call "Melbonics." If you folks think it's hard to make out what he's saying in print, you ought to try deciphering it first hand!

Anyhow, things came to a head at our house last night. Mel started in on how my hearing was getting worse by the day (never mind that I'm the one who has to turn down the television because it's too loud; the one who cringes at how loud he cranks up his John Denver CD in the car; the one who has to remind him to turn the blinker off when he turns a corner because he can't hear it clicking and to pipe down when he's talking on the phone; and the one who complains about a squeak in the ceiling fan, a barking dog, and the noise the central air makes going on and off). We snapped back and forth a few times and went to bed irritated. About an hour later, I was awakened by Mel's snoring, which he punctuated with a couple of sonic booms. I started my kicking routine, for him to roll over. He'd stop awhile and blast off again, so I'd punch him. I finally shook him and said, "Melvin, you've got to quit snoring so I can get some sleep."

"I wasn't snoring," he insisted, his tone indignant. "I'm not even asleep, so how could I have been snoring?"

It's probably going to get worse before it gets better. I'll leave it to you all to decide which one of us needs to have our ears checked.