Voice of the Mid-Columbia | Kennewick, Pasco and Richland, Wash. |
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| Lucy Luginbill is a freelance writer and regional television producer involved in projects distributed nationally to Christian bookstores. A breast cancer survivor, she resides in Kennewick with her husband Bill. They have two married daughters and six grandchildren. Two dogs and one cat fill the “empty nest.” |
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closeSunday, Oct. 25, 2009
Whispering sweet nothings once again
By Lucy Luginbill, Special to the Herald
Ladies, listen up! I’m practically shouting this good news, and I hope it doesn’t fall on deaf ears.
If you want your husband to do something for you, ask him in his right ear.
Got leaves to rake, a lawn to mulch? Whisper those sweet nothings in the ear on the right.
That bedroom you need painted; the car you’d like washed? Yep! Talk to the ear.
Now mind you, according to some Italians who did a study, you won’t get the same results if you ask ever so nicely in the left ear. Those researchers — who were bumming cigarettes at the time — say the left one focuses on feelings that are negative with a tendency toward avoidance.
I can certainly vouch for the validity of this discovery. For years, my husband Bill would hustle on any “honey-do” and smile in the process. But then one day, it stopped.
I’d worn out his right ear.
No matter how much I cajoled and whined and bartered for favors, he didn’t budge. The list got longer. My patience got shorter.
He claimed he didn’t hear me.
“Honey,” I said one winter morning. “We need to take this conversation to a new level.”
Bill looked at me quizzically, “No, I don’t need a new snow shovel.”
I switched to his other ear, but then he disappeared for days. I’d just about given up hope until I was downstairs dusting and discovered the prone object in front of the TV was him.
However, this spring something changed. Bill sprung to life like a hungry bear coming out of hibernation.
Suddenly, a tree root embedded in the driveway disappeared. A rock wall magically appeared, and a new concrete driveway rolled out its welcome.
From the crack of dawn until sunset, the man moved like a Michael Jackson video in fast-forward.
I scratched my head — and scratched off the “honey-do’s” on my notepad.
Then he ‘fessed up. Hidden ever so cleverly in his right ear was a teeny weenie hearing aid. I wanted to shout for joy, but I didn’t have to.
So, I whispered "Thank you” in his right ear. It was great to be back on his good side again.
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