graceland's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Christmas Mute I've been sick for days. I'm on day two with no voice whatsoever, it's incredibly frustrating. I mean, I don't feel terrible. I'm not congested, I'm not coughing anything up, but my throat hurts and I can't speak at all. I can just barely make a sound. I'm wondering if I may have severed a vocal cord. Every morning that I woke up this week, it was progresively worse. Thursday night was my office Christmas party and everyone had to shout over the band that could have rivaled The Who. I mean seriously, it was outrageous how loud this band was - and it was cocktail hour! I ended up leaving the party early because I just couldn't communicate. Friday morning, I woke up with a low grade fever and no voice. I went to work anyway, because I'm busy, but 3PM, I was sweating and wearing my coat in my office because I was shivering and I started to get a rash on my cheeks, I guess from the fever. I went home early. I slept for hours and then forced myself to get up because it was my local bar's Christmas party and I had promised the owner to provide the eggnog. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I dragged myself there and whispered. This guy who is a really good friend of mine was scheduled to bartend last night, so he shows up coming from another Christmas party. Oh. My. Hammered. He was wasted. He comes in and says to the owner, "J., I have good news and bad news: The bad news is I'm 3 martini's deep, the good news, though, is that my people skills are off the charts right now!" It was all I could do to keep my eyes averted and not laugh. Laughing would have been a disaster. The owner was pissed. He kept coming over to me to talk and be an idiot and I had to keep giving him the evil eye. Finally he said, "Grace, don't give me that look. Yes, I'm drunk, deal with it and catch up!" I had to give him the eye though - when he thinks I disapprove, he at least tries to act sober. The minute I left to go the bathroom, he unbuttoned his shirt and whipped it off into the garland. He needs complete supervision. I checked out around 11PM, although the scotch the owner made me drink did actually bring my voice back for a bit, it tasted like bleach and was making me crap my pants - wtf is that shit? Literally. It churned my insides. Today, still no voice. I may burst from the amount of tea with lemon and honey I've drank. It's helping though. Slowly. So I put up my Christmas tree (yay!) and baked chocolate chip cookies and I may fill out my christmas cards tonight. We'll see. That's about it. This is my only form of communication at the moment - this and text - so feel free to write. I need some contact with the outside world. Please tell me that I'm not going to be mute forever. This is heinous. 8:43 p.m. - 2005-12-17 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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