Don’t Shout…I’m Not Listening

For some strange reason, younger people seem to think gray hair and diminishing hearing capacity go hand in hand. It never fails that at least once a day, someone speaks to me in at a decibel level that’s reminiscent of an airplane takeoff.

Mind you, the person never asks if I can hear them speak at a normal volume; they just assume I can’t. I have no idea why people assume this. For what it matters, I’ve had my hearing tested and it’s still perfect, despite the fact that I tend to listen to podcasted music in my car at a level loud enough for a warning to pop up on my smart phone. Like I need my smart phone to babysit my choices at this point. Then again, technology and our government are watching most of my other moves already, so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised that my phone wants in on the action, too.

I’m at the point in life where I can still enjoy face to face conversation, the sound of a waterfall, the challenge of intellectual debate or wind rushing through the trees just before the thunderstorm invades my backyard. I’m also at the point where selective hearing is the perfect excuse to “miss” the well-meant but unwelcome and unasked-for advice, opinions and directives of others. People who tell me what I couldn’t, wouldn’t or shouldn’t do, behave or believe deserve to be boxed up and booted off the proverbial island and back to the land of Findsomeonewhogivesacrap.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to prep my bike for a long practice ride tomorrow. I can hear what you’re saying about the weather and not riding in the cold and how it’s crazy to ride after a long run today…I’m just not listening.

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