I swear, typing with this wrist brace on isn’t the easiest. Still, I persist, because I want to get my thoughts onto the page. But part of me wants to rip this darn brace off.
Sometimes writing feels harder than it should. I pause and question whether I’m being creative enough, whether what I’m trying to say is coming through clearly, and whether the meaning I feel inside is actually reaching the page. Then I wonder if any of this even matters, or if these same thoughts have already been written a million different ways by a million different people.
I think, beneath all of that, I’m afraid that what I write won’t matter at all, that it won’t be important, memorable, or worthy of existing. But this is my journal. It doesn’t need to impress anyone, be new, or be clever. It only needs to be honest. It matters because it holds my thoughts, my fears, my small realizations, and my voice in this moment of my life.
Maybe that’s enough. Maybe the act of writing itself is the point, not to be original or profound, but to be real.
It’s going to start snowing tonight. We’re heading out soon to the store to stock up on a few essentials and dinners, just in case we end up stuck in the house for a couple of days. There’s something about preparing for a snowstorm that always puts me in a reflective mood. It reminds me of my grandma and how her pantry was always full. The running joke in the family was that she could survive an entire blizzard without leaving the house for a month because she was so well prepared. In a way, this feels like carrying on a small piece of that habit, making sure we’re ready, just in case.
I also need to make a trip to Costco to pick up a few things while we’re out, and to have my hearing aids looked at. It feels like one of those errand days where everything needs to be done before the weather changes, a quiet rush before settling in and letting the snow take over.
We just got back from the store with dinner stuff checked off the list. Victory… briefly. Now we have to head to Costco in a bit. Alex is taking me since Kel isn’t feeling great. Alexis is coming too for round two of Errands: The Sequel.
I only need to do a little shopping at Costco, and, of course, get my hearing aids fixed. Again. At this point, it feels less like “maintenance” and more like a long-term relationship with the hearing aid counter. There is always something wrong. And it’s not just me being picky either. I tried Karissa’s hearing aid to test it out, and it sounded metallic, like I was listening to the world through a tin can connected to a robot. So now hers needs to go back in, too. Karissa has no idea what to do, which means… yes, another trip. But later. One thing at a time.
Honestly, can someone please invent a hearing aid that just works properly? No buzzing, no metallic echoes, no surprise sound effects. I don’t need surround sound or special features—I just want to hear.
And yes, it is absolutely true that I have taken my hearing aids out on purpose because I simply did not want to hear anyone and wanted to bask in some much-needed peace and quiet. No regrets. However, for daily life, I would very much like to be able to hear conversations and all the other important sounds, like someone calling my name, the oven timer, or whether that mysterious noise is the cat or something far more concerning.
Constantly reading people’s lips when they talk to me is exhausting. It turns every casual conversation into a high-stakes game of Guess That Word, where I smile and nod while secretly wondering if I just agreed to something outrageous. I’m all for selective hearing, but I’d prefer it to be a choice, not my full-time workout.
Ok, I feel better now that I got all that out. Upon further reflection, I’ve realized the only reason Alex and Alexis want to go to Costco has absolutely nothing to do with errands or helping me be productive. No. They are there for the samples. And the snacks. Specifically, Costco snacks, the giant-sized, life-altering, “we don’t need this, but we absolutely need this” kind.
They are 100% using my legitimate need to go to Costco as a carefully crafted cover story. A ruse. A snack-based conspiracy. I am merely the chauffeur with a membership card. Although, I believe that Alex may actually have a membership card. I will have to verify that. The fact that I might also need food items or get my hearing aid fixed is purely coincidental and, frankly, irrelevant to them.
If Costco ever runs out of samples, I’m confident their interest in coming along would mysteriously disappear. Until then, I will continue to be exploited for my access to free cheese cubes and industrial-sized bags of joy.
I was going to post this before I left for Costco, but time betrayed me, because I had to leave sooner than I thought. Costco was long. Like, existentially long. We did some shopping, wandered aisles we didn’t plan to wander, and somehow survived without buying a kayak or a six-foot teddy bear. I texted Tommy about some cinnamon-raisin bread. But he said no to that. Hmmph!
We also stopped by the hearing aid center, where they changed the receivers in both of my hearing aids. And I can actually hear well now. Conversations have returned. Background noises have reintroduced themselves. The world is loud again. I still have my hearing aids on at the moment, though I’m already eyeing the peace and quiet that comes with taking them out soon.
I’m posting this now before something else happens, or I lose momentum entirely, and then I’m off to help with dinner.
