“The toilet sounds funny,” I told my husband.
I didn’t say the toiler was overflowing or not filling with water. My specific description was “it sounds funny.”
For someone like me who’s mechanically challenged, sounds are the first indicator that something’s wrong. There was a problem with the valves in my last vehicle. The only way I could describe what was happening with the car was simple.
“The car sounds funny.”
It’s taken 30 years, but my engineer spouse has come to accept “funny” as meaning out of whack, needs looking at, starting to break.
There’s plenty of ways my hearing has helped me diagnose a problem. One of the latest has been my knees. They pop and creak more than they used to, so I know there’s an issue with them.
Come to find out – fluid on the knee.
One day, I heard a beeping sound. It wasn’t loud, but it was rhythmic. Every minute, I’d hear it, but the sound was faint. I couldn’t tell where that beeping was coming from, but the result was clear – something’s not right around here.
I went to the back bedroom, starting my sleuthing mission at the farthest end of the house. But after standing there for two minutes, I didn’t hear anything. I moved on to each room, the sound getting a little louder as I kept moving.
When I was in the kitchen, I heard the beeping loud and clear. I checked the microwave – all clear. The oven – all clear there. Then I heard that beep loud and clear – the dishwasher.
It seems I’d opened the door before the cycle was finished, and the dishwasher was letting me know I’d upset the cycle.
Once again, my ears diagnosed a problem.
My ears aren’t always accurate.
I have a hard time hearing my cell phone ring, and I’ve tried a variety of different tunes. They sounded fun, but there was a huge problem with those sounds. I’d hear the unfamiliar ring tone and think somebody else’s cell phone was ringing.
So I leave mine on the “circles” ringtone at full volume because that’s what came with the first cell phone I bought. Like a dog that hears the dinner bell, when I hear that tone, I know it’s my phone.
There are times when I have selective hearing.
Growing up in a house with seven children, I could tune out anything. Television blaring along with arguments were the typical soundtracks in our home. I could concentrate on my homework or a phone conversation with no problem.
To this day, when I’m home alone, I turn on the television or the radio just to have background noise. A totally quiet house or environment is unsettling.
As a mother of young children, when there was silence in the house, that meant trouble. On the flip side, I could hear the baby whimper in the middle of the night but never heard them sneaking in and out when they were teenagers.
In my defense, I naively trusted them. It’s only been in the last few years they admitted to a few middle-of-the-night adventures.
I also have selective interpretation with the little voice in my head.
“Don’t eat that piece of cake” translates to “That little ole slice won’t hurt you.”
“You need to fill up the gas tank” translates to “It’s too cold outside. Wait until the next time you’re in town to get gas.”
“You haven’t vacuumed in three weeks” translates to “My allergies are so much happier when I don’t stir up the dust.”
My husband only asked one question when I told him about the toilet – “Is it something I need to look at right now or can it wait?”
I considered the sound, how long it lasted and the tone. Then I gave him my expert opinion.
“It can wait.”
We professional listeners know the difference.
This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.