On Monday night, I felt it starting to go. By Tuesday night, it was gone.
Yes, folks, it's time for my semi-annual tradition: Losing my voice. The perfect storm of a head cold and the start of allergy season results in my voice becoming a death rattle.
I use my voice a lot. I'm attempting to use humor and choices when Owen gets stubborn, which works much better when one's voice box works.
Likewise, I do a better job teaching when I can project my voice above a whisper.
Since I can't talk, I've thrown in the towel. I cancelled class. Then, I called Paul and hissed into the phone, "Please come home as soon as you possibly can."
After asking me to speak up three times, he finally said, "I'll be home by noon."
At noon, the cavalry came. Both boys are sleeping, I am resting the voice, and hopefully, I'll be at least croaking by tomorrow.
I guess that's all I have to say today. Not the most entertaining post, which is strange. You would think that I would be dying to share the things I couldn't express out loud. Instead, I'm feeling a little weary and I'm going to enjoy the boys' naps with a nap of my own.
All this attempting to communicate is making me too tired to communicate.