
My Partner Has Misophonia
I live with a woman who hears what I don't hear. A clicking pen can ruin her whole day.
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Pick the title that describes them: “My Husband Snores”, “My Dad Retired”, “My Boss Has ADHD”. Or treat yourself.

I live with a woman who hears what I don't hear. A clicking pen can ruin her whole day.

My dad greets everyone warmly. The problem is that he almost never knows who they are.

Otis knows movies, cooking, and Balkan history. But when the check arrives, he always puts in twenty.

Before the ten o'clock coffee, my boss already has twelve ideas. All brilliant. None the same as yesterday's.

I gave this book to my wife. Forty minutes later she was emptying the pantry.

If your brain had a web browser, it would have 47 tabs open.

"Dorothy. Honey. I love you. But go take a walk." (His first Tuesday of retirement, with a notebook that said HOUSE PROJECT.)

"Debbie, there are forty-two containers." "I know." "There are two of us." "I know."

"Luke, you need to sit down." "Why?" "Just sit." (On the edge of the sink, a test with two pink lines.)

"Good morning, sweetheart." "Four sets of twelve." "Did you sleep well?" "Six ounces of chicken."

"Beth. I have a mole." "It's a mole." "A new one." (It was 6:45 a.m. and he was holding a flashlight.)

"They've got the wrong person. When they figure it out, I'll be fired." (The day I was promoted to team lead.)

"Dana, I'm so sorry. My head hurts and my social battery is drained. Will you forgive me?" (Received at 6:47 p.m. on my birthday.)

"No need to respond today." It's the most treacherous sentence in the language. Sent at 11:47 p.m.

"Tina, why is there a boot on the table?" "It's waiting for its mate. It's in the car."

"Five minutes." "Can't you pause?" "It's an online game."

"When was the last time we really talked?" "We're talking." "No. This is alternating between screens."

"How much of the presentation do you have?" "The title." "Andy." "It was really dirty." (He meant the fridge.)

"It's crooked." "Marcy, it's impossible to see one millimeter from ten feet away." "I can see it."

"Honey, what are you holding in your right hand?" "Oh. They were right here."

"Dad, shall we go up?" "One moment. I'm preparing myself." "It's a staircase." "It's a challenge."

"Hugh. I need you to come over." "What's wrong?" "It has eight legs."

"It's not fear. It's common sense." "Marnie, airplanes are built for exactly that: flying." "That's what you say."

"Ross, do I ride up front?" "Hallie, you always ride up front. It's the Copilot Law."

"Spend a day with me. Morning to night. And you'll see."

"It's this way." (It wasn't this way.)

"I'll wear the gray one, it goes with everything." "Honey, that shirt is pink."

"Terri, honey, you're cooking this year." "Mom, my brother is allergic to everything." "To almost everything."

"I'm starting keto." "And who explained that to you?" "A video."

"I'm going vegan." She said it the way you'd announce you were switching internet providers. He looked at the fridge.

"Does this have gluten?" Four thousand two hundred times, by his best friend's calculations.

"My wife and milk broke up on bad terms." And he, who only cooked fried eggs, had to learn.

"I'm going to be a model diabetic. I'm going to quit sugar. Cold turkey." "Roger, it's not a race."

"One fifty-eight over ninety-eight." "It must be the machine."

"You seem off." "It's my prodrome: yawning, cravings and a stiff neck. One's coming."

At 11:30 on a Friday night, she put a hand to her chest and said: "I have a small dragon in my throat. But with attitude."

My husband is probably the only person in the world who knows every public restroom in the city by heart.

"Honey, do you hear that?" I didn't hear anything. My mother had been listening for weeks to a cricket living in her left ear.

I asked if he wanted a coffee. He heard "toffee." This is the archive of everything that was said and everything that was heard.

There's an age when your arms stop being long enough. And you keep swearing it's the bad lighting.

Today Frank found a hair in the drain and stared at it like someone served a subpoena.

My husband bought a motorcycle. A big, black one, with an engine that sounds like a lion with indigestion.

Diane and I had been married twenty-three years. I thought I knew her. Until I found her with her head inside the freezer.

Venue: the bedroom. Performer: my husband. Instrument: his teeth. Ticket: none. Refund: impossible.

I walked into the hallway with a rolling pin, thinking they were burglars. It was my son, looking for the printer in the broom closet.

He stops breathing and I stop sleeping. This is the story of how we fixed it.

At 3:00 a.m., the world has a different sound. And you, eyes wide open, know that tomorrow you'll be a mess.

Last night my wife asked me for a divorce. Over a pizza.

Do you sleep next to a tractor? This book is for you (and for your earplugs).
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Yes. Almost every title exists in English and Spanish.