My Ears

My ears are the most abused part of my body.  I experienced this epiphany yesterday when Chloe was talking to my right ear and Sophie was talking to my left ear.  My 43-year old ears can’t take it anymore.  The simultaneous cacophony has ruined my stereo-sound.

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It’s no wonder I’m constantly confusing my girls’ names, calling Sophie “Chloe” and Chloe “Sophie.”  It’s because my ears are connected to my face, which is connected to my skull, which is connected to my brain.  And that long and winding road their voices must take so that I can get their names right leaves a lot of opportunity for crossed wires.  Especially when my two girls ARE YELLING IN MY EARS AT THE SAME FRIGGIN’ TIME.

If one of them hears the other talking to me, the other decides that she needs to have a conversation with me at that very moment.  The phenomenon is striking.   They are like lemmings, except instead of one following the other off a cliff, one follows the other to my eardrums.

I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to start wearing earplugs.  Which will require them to write me notes.  Which will give me peace and quiet.  Amen.

 

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