Squeaky Clean

It was some two months ago that I first noticed an odd phenomenon attendant upon the locomotion of this tired old body of mine. As I walked I could hear a faint yet distinct squeaking in my left ear. On the day it began I assumed it emanated from my faithful old Clarkes' shoes, or one of them at least - presumably the one on the left foot. However, to my considerable surprise and mild consternation when I took my shoes off the noise continued.

And the noise continued to haunt me for the next couple of months, though in an on-and-off manner. Often I had no awareness of it at all, and sometimes the squeaking was so faint as to suggest it was gradually fading. At times I wondered if what I was experiencing might be something related to an imbalance in my actual hearing. I also wondered if anyone else noticed I was squeaking, especially when the sound was at its most distinct. But no one ever said anything.

Which body part was causing the problem was a subject for further conjecture. Since the noise emerged at its most distinct when I plonked my left foot down I settled on the knee as the most likely guilty bit.

Things finally came to a head, so to speak, on Thursday of this week when, after a day of particularly loud squeaking, I thought I'd better get the expert opinion of the Missus on the matter. I asked her to join me on three walks across the apartment floor and it turned out I wasn't going crazy. Yes, there was a noise. Yes, it was a squeaking noise. And, since I was wearing no shoes, it was pretty obviously me that was doing the squeaking. We'd both decided that we'd better tell my back doc the odd news when Noi had a brainwave. Take off your belt, she ordered, and the mystery was solved, as beltless I proceeded to promenade soundlessly. And, yes indeed, it was some two months ago I first started to wear the spiffy new belt she had bought for me.

Gentle Reader, I can tell you that the relief was not exactly considerable, but certainly distinct. But here's the funny thing. The Missus, who I should tell had been dealing with the whole situation with a degree of levity that any serious-minded person would have seen as inappropriate, now began to howl with laughter - and has done so on at least two occasions since when reminded of the matter. What is so funny about a squeaking spouse, I would like to know. At one point she sputtered: You, cartoon you know. I have no idea what this means, but I suspect my dignity rating in the household has plummeted to a new low. And this after two months of a furrowed brow, manfully kept to myself.