Likely Normal

It must’ve been hard for Beethoven’s neighbors when he started going deaf. Going deaf isn’t just hard on you, it’s an Olympic-level patience test for everyone in your life. Suddenly, every conversation becomes a high-stakes improv show where your loved ones must act out “We’re having chicken for dinner” like they’re performing for an especially confused mime. You develop a signature move: the “confident nod while secretly hoping you didn’t just agree to adopt a llama.” Meanwhile, your family oscillates between shouting like they’re on a sinking ship and texting you from across the room like you’re a spy who might be wiretapped.

Restaurants become a nightmare. You smile blankly at the waiter while your spouse frantically translates “Do you want the salmon?” into a series of exaggerated fish mouth movements and fork gestures. You respond “Yes, I love salsa!” because lip-reading is basically just gambling with vowels. At home, you turn the TV volume up to “earthquake simulation,” prompting your neighbors to file noise complaints and your dog to howl along like he’s in a tragic opera.

The real kicker? You don’t even get to enjoy the classic “selective hearing” excuse anymore. Pre-deafness, you could pretend not to hear “Take out the trash.” Now, when you miss “Your pants are on fire,” people just sigh and throw water on you preemptively. But hey, there’s an upside: you’ve never been more popular at parties, because everyone wants to be the one to dramatically enunciate “THAT’S A NICE… SWEATER!” like they’re auditioning for a soap opera.

In the end, going deaf is nature’s way of teaching your loved ones the art of interpretive dance—and teaching you that sometimes, nodding and saying “That’s crazy!” is a perfectly valid life strategy. Just pray no one ever asks you a yes-or-no question.