I'm still inaudible. Croaky McCroakerson at my very best, frankly incapable at making a sound at my worst.
It's not that it hurts too much to speak. It's simply that I can't speak. I actually feel pretty good, the fact that I had too much wine at a playdate last night notwithstanding (yes, we have good playdates; I recommend it, in moderation at least. And what was I to do but drink and whisper and croak and drink some more?). More than once I have either answered the phone or made a phone call, forgetting the fact that I cannot speak. I know this may come as a shock, but the inability to make a sound kind of hinders the telephone communication thing. I'm just saying.
But how odd and how nice to be able to communicate fully with my friends in blogs, on email, and IM. I feel almost normal.
There are certain interactions that can't be helped. I simply must have my wonderful coffee from the world's smallest coffee shop (holds one customer at a time) on my way to work. I sometimes need to make transactions in shops. I walk through the halls at work and people say hello. One poor soul even stopped her car and asked me for directions. I gave them to her, in a whisper, leaning into her open window.
But suddenly everyone has to lean in, and everything's a little bit of a secret just between us. "Yes, my signature has been rubbed off on my American Express card." "Blackberry muffin today, please." "Turn around and take your first left. You can probably find parking at the meters, and they don't ticket after 6." These little, normal exchanges take on a different character when whispered breathlessly to total strangers and the most casual of acquaintances. The best part is the fact that almost everyone who carries on an exchange with me starts whispering themselves. I whisper that I have laryngitis and then I whisper my desire for a muffin or the fact that the card I have proffered is credit, not debit. Then they whisper a response. Then they laugh and say "I don't know why I'm whispering too!" Then I laugh (okay, smile and sort of breathe jovially), and say "yeah, everybody does that," and then they say something in a normal voice, and then they go back to whispering. It seems it's almost impossible to talk loudly to someone who's whispering back.
Unless you're three years old.
This is probably god's way of telling me to figure out a new discipline approach. Hmm.