I just saw someone destroy a Mac.
Ok, moving on, I have lost my voice. It is completely gone. I get down to pick something up and a little hoarse squeak comes out, unlike my own voice, and it is driving me nuts. I can't speak to my kids so I have resorted to smacking my hand as hard as I can on the table. When I try to speak nothing comes. At times I am lucky and I am able to eek out a really bizarre sound like Joan Rivers and Rachael Ray combined. It is not pretty.
I keep having thoughts of The Piano, Harvey Kietel dusting a piano with no britches on, and stepping up to a microphone with no voice to back it up. I have called Dear Sir twice at work today and all I have for him is a ferocious whisper and he says, "Quit talking. You're scaring me." In other words, quit calling me. I actually got up the nerve to still do school this morning with the boys. We skipped dictation, but that is ok. When I would want one boy's attention I would slam my palm against the table and stare at him. They were a little freaked out. School went well.
The Oldest just looked up laryngitis in his medical manual so he can be assured that my voice comes back. He is a bit concerned, I guess. This has cropped up from allergies. It was all in my ear the other day and I was hating life, and now it is down in my voice box. It is better than pain in my ear, which is unbearable, so I guess I have to live with it for a bit. Dear Sir keeps saying, "Hot drinks, hot drinks."
The daughter told me this morning, "Now dad has a mute wife."
More on this later. I am about to go on a date with Dear Sir and I get to whisper to him the whole time.