I swallow and my throat is raw and thick with snot. My breath is sharp between my shoulder blades and there is a troll in my upper respiratory tract squeezing tighter and tighter as the night wears on.
The inhaler helps a little, and the cough syrup too, though they taste like a dead Christmas tree lot and the nasal spray smells faintly of potpourri from the same.
It is a dull, glum Friday when one has the flu or something like it.
Tomorrow’s recording session looms like a monolith, and for once I’m ecstatic I won’t have to sing, just dreading the inevitable cough that will interrupt the song’s climax.
“Harpists are always so angelic!”
Not tomorrow, apparently, as I hack up my lungs and the wayward throat troll with it.
24 hours for the antibiotic to take hold.
“just a spoonful of sugar…”
If only it were that easy.
A young student asked me tonight how I was feeling and this response started itching at my cerebellum until I could commit it to the blogosphere.
Reference to Disney’s Mary Poppins for anyone who knows it! (and the numbers that do know it grow quickly shorter the older I get….)