Local Laryngitic Leper Alarms Barista

Speaking of shutting me up, I seem to have lost my voice. Professionally, not a good thing. I sound like a dolt when croaking out orders for my team. It sounds like sort of a cross between a difficult puberty and a ghostly haunting. . .

My local baristsa seems to think it may be contagious, she now utters "Dios mio" whenever I arrive in her line for my morning pickup. I have tried to allay her germy fears, but alas, my throaty utterances only make it worse, so my charming assurance, "Really, I'm not contagious" comes out sounding like "You will die in three days time. . ."



Looking at it from a strictly cynical wit point of view, losing my voice is not necessarily a bad thing. For the moment, it helps keep my acidic musings in check for when my "appropriate comment" filter is overloaded with all the neat things I could say, but shouldn't.

I hate being sick. It seems like more often than not this last year. On the plus side, I can still scribe dazzling titles to my posts, (maybe I should be on staff at the New York Post) which tells me I still got a little life left in me. . .

SA