My throat infection is back. Last night I went into work and my throat was kind of bugging me. By the time I was done shift, it hurt to swallow. This morning at 8, my tongue was swollen again. And now it is yellow. Yellow. Seriously. What the?? I look like a 4 year old who has eaten a fist-sized gobstopper.
I went to see the doctor this morning. I thought she would give me more anti-biotics and send me on my merry way. Except she is uber concerned. She ordered chest Xrays and swabs and blood tests and told me I have to come see her in two days. And here is the worst part - I am not allowed to talk until then.
I'm... not allowed... to talk? But! But!! I have to talk. It's what I do for a living. I'm a counsellor. I have to speak to counsel. Also, I love to talk. LOVE IT. Not as much as some people I know, but I do love it. And now, I can't talk. Well... I'm not supposed to.
The problem is, I have realized I talk all the time. To the dogs, to myself, to strangers, to clerks at the store, to people on the phone, to the walls. And I miss it. Already. No one else will, I imagine. "The Guy"** is already planning on torturing me the entire time. My brother called me when I texted that I wasn't allowed to talk and mocked me for it. The dogs will not know when they are being bad. The girls will gossip and I won't be able to join them. It will be anarchy!!*
This is the lamest way to get the whole summer off. Sorry boss, I have to stay home. I have a sore throat.
*Whoever knows this quote gets imaginary high fives!
**Oops. I didn't mean to put his name. It's hard to remember.