Just Singing in the Rain

I was singing in the shower the other night and my rendition of Blue Spanish Eyes was sounding downright great. I always sound amazing in the shower but this night, my voice seemed especially awesome. I chuckled to myself that it was as though someone had installed a waterproof sound system in the ceiling and I went a step further and thought, that’s not a bad idea. No more holding the shower wand as a microphone; I could have the real thing.

Then, I was suddenly struck by an awful realization. The reason for the fantastic sounds I was warbling was dreadfully simple: I had forgotten to remove my hearing aids before I entered the stall.

These are not just any hearing aids. These are a trial pair and I remember signing some document at the hearing place which said if I wrecked them during the trial period, I agreed to pay the full price for them, even if they were toast.

So, I did as I always do in a crisis such as this. I yelled out a string of words I used to have to tell a priest in the confessional that I had said, then I hurled myself out of the shower. I frantically dried off the little devices, then spent the evening on the Internet desperately researching facts about water and hearing aids. As instructed, I let the little suckers dry out on their own, popped them in their charger and went to bed.

I put them on the next morning and they have been working fine ever since. In fact, maybe better than before. Maybe water is good for them. I really hope it is because I don’t think that is the last time I will belt out a watery Engelbert Humperdinck song with that much power.

©2021 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.