Sponsor me in the 2005 MS Walk! Why? Read here.
It's 11:17 a.m., and I'm sitting on my living room floor in my red plaid flannel pajamas to type this. Life is a little better than it was yesterday. At least from here no one can hear my creaky voice.
I probably felt good enough to go to work, but I thought I deserved a day. Besides which, if I don't talk to anyone all day today, perhaps tomorrow I'll sound human again.
I tend to talk an awful lot. One of my high school friends used to call me "Six" after the character on Blossom, the one that never took a breath. It was a fitting nickname.
The second time I went out with the Boyfriend, we drove to NH to climb Mt. Cardigan. He's such an outdoorsy boy. Anyway, he told me later that he was worried we'd be sitting in the car for an hour and a half each way in total silence, as we might not be able to sustain a conversation that long. He was wrong. I had no trouble filling in that space.
I hate not having a voice. I keep talking to myself now just to see if it's come back. It hasn't. I'm annoyed. Although, other people are less bothered by it. The Artboy always thought it was a good thing when I sounded this way. He found it appealling. I knew there were some good things about him...
I think I'm going to bribe my voice with a hot bath and a steamy cup of tea.
The good thing, I suppose, is that I don't have to be able to talk to be able to type.
---------------------------------------------
Something to say about this entry?
Add your comments here (0 people have spoken already)
< Chicken and Stars | Should I wrap it and put it under the tree, to me from me? >
