Senseless Sunday Sarcasm : Laryngitis edition (Doggone it!)
“What did you say?”
“Can you repeat that?”
It’s the curse those of us who seem to get laryngitis every year are plagued with.
The knot in your throat feels like a calcium pill is stuck inside, and constricts when you’re trying to talk. You’re the invisible being among friends. They’re on to the next subject by the time you’ve written a sentence about the last one.
It’s a lot like being deaf, only you can hear. And since I’m not deaf, that’s not fair.
Laryngitis never hits when you’re on a tropical island sipping Mai Tai’s in solitude. Nooooo…it has to hit when you’re working for 5 solid days and have to talk for 2 hours at a time in meetings that require prying information out of people who had no clue what you were talking about when you DIDN’T have laryngitis
Then there are the phone calls. Did you know that I get, on average, one call every 2 weeks?
But not when I have laryngitis.
In 1 week I averaged 4 calls a day, and each caller needed to have a question answered.
I’m quickly changing religious beliefs from the power of “if you don’t have a mind it doesn’t matter,” to, “Axe me one more question and I’ll show you what it’s like to have laryngitis permanently!”
The dogs and cats took this opportunity to have a scratch-a-thon last night. When I say, “Dingo, stop scratching,” or “Errrrr Dog, stop growling,” they’ll stop.
If the human can’t talk and no one is around to bark orders, is the human really there? Obviously, in doggie world, the answer is no. They lick their feet, chew on a back leg, what’s left of their private parts, or growl at the one next to them what’s doin’ it.
There is no legitimate reason for that level of sound torture at 2 in the morning!
They have every tick and flea protection known to God and humans.
If they’re not accosting me with a great imitation of claws-down-a-chalkboard, they’re nosey. The treacherous little beasties wait until I’m almost asleep and then
It’s not like the dogs don’t know what it means to be put-upon
You’d think that neutering left nothing to scratch ‘n sniff south of the stomach.
I wonder if limbs aren’t the only thing that’s phantom after removal?
I tried taking a natural sleep aid, then Benadryl. Two hours of snore-central at most.
Then I remembered the medication that causes an, “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” level of dizzy, turns my stomach, makes me pass out for 8 hours and encourages me to forget that it’s hiding in the back of my fridge — until I’m desperate for sleep.
The result is awakening on top of the bed covers, 5 dog heads using various parts of my body as a pillow, with sensation of floating in an ocean of slobber.
If you just had a smoothie for breakfast, my apologies.
My BAID (My but alas I digress).
Puppies are cute. Laryngitis is not cute.
Due to the onset of acute laryngitis, I’ll be unplugging the phone until further notice.