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Throatier
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Aw, crap. Woke up at about 4:15 a.m. with a raging sore throat. Hurts so bad I couldn't go back to sleep, and a search for your basic throat-numbing spray turned up nothing (I know there's a bottle of the stuff at work, which one of my co-workers bought for me when my uvula was swollen and driving me crazy, but I didn't bring it home). So I had to brew some tea, which is a bit of a process, and now I'm wide awake. I don't feel sick, apart from the invisible fishhooks shredding my esophagal lining, so I guess I should be grateful. And I have the next two days off work anyway, so at least I can rest if rest is deemed appropriate. My only real worry is the solstice reading on Thursday, which is, what, 38 and a half hours away? Based on my sore-throat-having-past, I know there's an even chance that I'll have no voice whatsoever tomorrow. I'm drinking honey-lemon-ginger tea, and I'll go to the store this morning (when the freakin' sun comes up) for some soup and so forth. Wish me well. The show will go on unless I can't speak on Thursday afternoon. At least it's only a 15-minute reading. Maybe I'll be okay.

Now, how to pass the time until Heather wakes up... I guess bad TV is in order, along with a side order of hoping to pass out on the couch. Being sick blows righteously.



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