That there were "benefits" to being deaf.
We were driving down to Mississippi from Missouri to visit my cousin, Leigh. My children were small then, and this grandmother would be their great grandmother. So Great Granny Inez was in the front seat. Little people 8 and under were in the backseat. I got to drive and listen to the whining and bickering behind me.
My grandmother looked at me, askance, and said, "There are benefits to being deaf." Then she removed her hearing aids and took a nap.
I have just finished, again, the painting in the guest room. I did the touch up on the wall where the painter's tape ripped the paint off. And I did the touch up in the oil base window casing, with a small artist's brush no less. As I did the little details, cleaned the brushes, hammered the lids down, I was reminded of my grandmother's words. I now believe that if there are any remaining flaws in the window paint job (and I know there are), I will just remove my glasses and slip into fuzzy vision. I won't see them close or far, due to that age of bifocalizm. And if anyone complains, they won't be invited to stay ever again.