There’s One Bigly Sound My Ears Aren’t Hearing

I’m spittin’ out my hearing aids about it. I can hear the ocean. I’m wearing my nautical wood Bow Tie o’ the Day, but I’m not at the ocean. You might think it’s nice to hear the ocean from Centerville, UT on a hot August day, but it’s not. It’s my stoopid tinnitus. I am yearning for a silence I will probably never again have. It is driving me batty. Some days it just irks me beyond all reason. No matter how sweet a sound you can think of, be assured that you don’t want to hear it unceasingly in your head 24/7 until the day you go completely deaf or die—whichever comes first. I love hearing the ocean when I’m at the ocean. But my old ears haven’t let me have a silent night’s sleep in over a year now. I don’t think I hear it in my dreams, but I’m not sure because I’m asleep when I dream.

My tinnitus doesn’t just manifest itself as the sound of the ocean. I’ve started keeping a list of the various ways its sounds. So far I can attest that my tinnitus can sound like outside water running; inside water running; wind gusting; ringing; air being let out of a tire or ball; steam being released from an iron; radio static; the microwave running; the fridge running; plastic being removed from a new product; tinfoil being crumpled; being underwater; somebody breaking in downstairs; any kind of hydraulics; an Alka Seltzer fizzing; the AC starting up; and a roulette wheel coasting. I’m sure the list will only get longer and longer.

The one thing my tinnitus doesn’t sound like is silence. Day, night, day, night. The one sound my tinnitus can’t mimic is silence. I’m done finding it interesting. I’ve been ranting about how fed up I am about it to Skitter all day, and it’s almost time for Suzanne to get home from work. I declare my rant about my failing ears to be officially over for today. Thank you for always listening to my rants.

Now, I shall pretend my ears are 17 again, so when Suzanne gets home she will be none the wiser that earlier today I debated poking a hole in both my eardrums with one of her crochet hooks, just to “hear” some peace and quiet.

[I am aware that for some of you the post photos are not oriented correctly. I’m working on it. There’s no problem on most platforms, but on the website itself, some of the recent pix are not oriented as they should be. Thanks for your patience while I try to troubleshoot.]

Skitter Loves Her Old Rowan

Our incredible Rowan turned the bigly age o’ 23 over the weekend. He managed to squeeze in some time to celebrate with his moms last evening, and we were so glad he did. I fed him vegan frozen dinners, and Suzanne made him a vegan birthday cake. Skitter wore her mustache Tie o’ the Day for the occasion. I managed to dig up Rowan’s 2nd Grade school photo, in which his gorgeous brown eyes bulged with glee. Last night, he was more than willing to pull his now-adult version of his 2nd Grade facial pose. He hasn’t changed a bit. His brown eyes are still gorgeous even when he makes them bulge. Merry Birthday, Flick Muckle Spinner!