NOW YOU SEE IT--NOW YOU DON'T!

My ears have become the suitcase of my face. I have to pack behind them the wires of my hearing aids, my glasses and a trusty mask. Of course, when I go hiking I  also have to add the strap of my hat just to provide an additional carry-on.

It took no time at all for my hearing aids to develop an intimate relationship with my glasses, and I suspect they are having an illicit affair with my mask.  Here’s the scoop: After an enjoyable evening with friends I came home to my apartment. I stepped into my well-lit closet, hung up my jacket and tried to remove my mask. The left ear cooperated, but there was an entanglement  between my glasses and the other ear’s hearing aid.  As I removed the mask, the tiny stinker silently dropped to the carpeted floor. I looked down. It had vanished!  How could that be?

That $2,500 (per-ear) midget had made it’s great escape, and was not to be found in that brightly lit closet.  I took out the few suitcases I had lined against the wall. It became obvious that  the hearing aid had not planned a get-away with my suitcases. I looked inside the one pair of shoes I keep on a rubber mat. It became obvious that the hearing aid did not plan a hike anytime soon.  I then removed all of the low hanging jackets, shook them out and laid them on the bed. The lower part of the closet was empty, and the hearing aid was no where to be found.

In desperation, I called down to the Concierge Desk and asked if beautiful eagle-eyed Emalyn could come up and take a look. Flashlight in hand she arrived and searched everywhere, but found nothing. The plot thickened! Finally, I put the suitcases back, and re-hung all of the low hanging jackets. Unlike low hanging fruit it had been slim pickings.

However, trusty Emalyn was not to be deterred. She said, “I’m going to look through all of these jackets.” “But,” I said, “I saw the hearing aid fall onto the floor.” Whereupon, she plucked that teeny-weeny run-away hearing aid out of the rolled up sleeve of a jacket — one that I never really liked. Sheepishly, I said, “It must have bounced.”

Two days later, I went to dinner and saw my new neighbors. They had just moved in the day before, so I went over to introduce myself.  We are allowed to go maskless in the dining room since it’s difficult to eat unless you want to chew on a mask. Consequently, I began to remove my mask. At that, my earring fell onto the floor— followed by my hearing aid. When I crawled out from under their table I said, “You are so lucky that I don’t have a glass eye.”

Esther Blumenfeld