Yesterday, I woke up deaf.
Well, not entirely, but my ears were clogged and it was like I was underwater.
Frankly, it scared the crap out of me. My grandmother went for YEARS with reduced hearing because she was too proud and vain to get a hearing aid. I definitely don't take after her, because after one hour of feeling like I was in a tunnel and asking Mr. KK "What?" after every word he uttered, I was ready to head to Belltone and sign myself up.
(Except that I was too afraid to drive like that, so I would have had to ask for a ride)
The deafness didn't get any better. In fact, it got worse. To the point where Mr. KK and I would be standing in the same room having a conversation and he'd start laughing at me.
KK: "Why are you laughing?"
Mr. KK: "Because you're yelling to hear yourself talk."
Gotta love marital support.
When we were in church at the baptism, I "whispered" to Mr. KK: "Do you think I could ask God to give me back my hearing?" I wasn't sure if that was being selfish, considering I hadn't been to church since Aunt Mary's funeral.
So I spent most of the baptism having imaginary conversation like this in my (clouded) head:
KK: "Um, God, can you do me a solid? Can you make it so I can hear again?"
GOD: "You're asking me for a favor? When was the last time you did something for me?"
KK: "Well, I work with tons of stupid people, and I haven't killed any of them yet..."
GOD (raised eyebrows; yes, God has eyebrows, in case you were wondering): "Have you helped anyone out?"
KK: "Well, I gave a shitload – I mean TON – of clothes to Goodwill! And nice things too – designer shoes, Polo T-shirts, Calvin Klein pants..."
GOD: "Maybe being hard of hearing will make you more sensitive to others with disabilities. Or, maybe it means you have wax build up."
God, apparently, has a sense of humor and medical degree.