Huh? Did You Say Something?

"Say again my precious pumpkin."

My wife and I are having a conversation.  It is typical of the kind of discourse we have these days.

She:  "Mumble mumble mumble…are much better than…mumble mumble."

Me:  "What?"

She: " Huh?  What did you…mumble mumble anyway?"

Me: "Huh? I didn't catch mumble mumble mumble."

She:" I said you never &#%&@* listen when I mumble mumble mumble."

Me: "What damn it!?"

She:  "My mother was right!  You are a complete #$@!&*!"

Me:  "Yes dear."

"Yes, I'm listening!"

As I recall, we were either talking about what to have for dinner or how crappy movies have become since actors quit enunciating.  It's true.  Both of us concur that the acting has never been better, but when it comes to movie dialog it is nearly impossible to understand anything being said on screen.  We spent-- I forget how much-- on a high end surround sound system and still feel lucky to catch half of what is being said in a typical contemporary film.

I suppose my problem could be the result of forty years of occupational headphone trauma.  Certainly there is a price ears pay for a daily four hour dose of "cans" cranked up to mach ten.  In fact I remember noticing a loss of frequency in the high ranges as early as my late twenties.  My wife can't use this excuse.  Could her loss of audio acuity be linked to years of yelling at me and the kids in her school library?

Or…..could notching age 65 on the geezer meter be the problem?  I still recall my mother insisting at age 89 that hearing aids were for "old people" and that she certainly didn't need any gadget like that.  This was always made plain to me after I had repeated something to her for the fifth time, at which point she would admonish me with, "there is no need to yell".  My reward for this chastisement was to discharge a load of smartass when her back was turned.  It's hard to read lips when you can't see 'em.  (I wonder if my kids are already familiar with this technique?)

The difficulty probably IS that pesky age thingy.  Hardly a week goes by without a piece of junk mail arriving to urge my ears in for a check-up and a friendly visit with a hearing aid salesman who can put me into the new Mick Jagger model for just pennies a day.  I tend to file those in the same receptacle to which I consign pitches for safe, festive and carefree cremation.

So, I guess the two of us will bump along in this "Huh?" and "What?" rut for a while longer until one of us either moves out or kills the other or... maybe, just maybe, we both go for a hearing test.

She: "What?"

Me:  "I said, mumble mumble…caption."

She:  "Great idea!  Where's the remote?  I'll hit the CLOSED CAPTION."

Me:  "Maybe you could turn it up just a notch while your at it."

She:  "Do you think we ought to get our mumble mumble mumble checked?"

Me:  "Yep, those are veneers.  He hasn't had his real teeth in years!"

These should do the trick.