... I just might be entering that phase of middle age where I start to realize that I'm hard of hearing -- so, to all of you who interact with me in a non-virtual way (or in a virtual arena with audio [ah ... modern times ...], I'm putting you on notice. Do what the image says, please ... and no one will get hurt ...
Since I'm embracing this failure of my body parts, that means I get to continue to set the TV to anything between 30 and 35 (sorry, neighbors -- if you don't want to hear that which I'm viewing, then move to a building that doesn't include advancing-toward-senior-citizen-status citizens like me). And to blast the music in the car whilst driving to allow me to hear the original song better while I perform my singalong off key version. (Hmmm ... I may be uncovering a chicken or egg situation as I let this post play out ...).
Without any disrespect to those for whom this disability has been a lifelong challenge, there's a part of me that thinks that this milder version of it might just be peaceful. I can more easily ignore the prattle of others (not you -- when you speak, it's never prattle [wink!]), and just live a calm existence with the voice in my own head. To clarify -- that's just one voice I hear -- not many voices -- and that one voice doesn't tell me do anything too crazy -- lest someone decide to use this admission as the beginning of a commitment strategy.
To be honest, this is just how I like my deformities -- enough to make me interesting but not too much to interrupt a mostly functioning lifestyle. So now I'll add hard-of-hearing to mild OCD (like pulling on the front door handle each night before climbing into bed, or feeling the need to count anything I'm holding over and over again, or acting on that voice of mine in that noggin of mine to rub the bald Buddha's heads at the corner down the street that I pass each day on my walk to get the paper or do other errands [to prove how in control I am, I've yet to follow that command, I mean suggestion ...]) and to apprentice hoarding (I've got me a room, and a curio cabinet, and a couple of, well, let's call them ... displays -- but so far no animals have been lost in the detritus, and the habit is mostly hidden from view should one visit the apartment).
A moment of reflection --if I wasn't so darn self-aware, I might just benefit from the services of a shrink, eh? Instead, I'll spend my money on a hearing test ... soon ... until then ... speak up!
MIDDLE AGE, BE NOT PROUD:
http://health.nytimes.com/health/guides/disease/age-related-hearing-loss/
MAKING MILD OCD WORK FOR YOU! (the everything has its place phenomenon):
http://www.squidoo.com/how-to-live-with-ocd-and-use-it-to-your-advantage
EARLY SIGNS OF BECOMING A HOARDER THAT I MAY OR MAY NOT EXHIBIT:
http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/7-signs-youre-turning-into-a-h-1-104213
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