I've had laryngitis for nine days. NINE days. I didn't even know it was possible to have laryngitis that long. Apparently mother nature has a wicked sense of humor. My nickname in sixth grade, given to me by my beloved and very strict teacher, was Motormouth. Seriously, the inability to speak for nine days has been quite a challenge. The jokes have been a challenge too. You can imagine, I'm sure. If I had a nickel for every time I've heard, "Your husband must like this, hehehehehe", I could buy a coffee at least. Couple that with the fact that my day job is teaching, and you get a very frustrated old lady.
Thankfully, wool has come to the rescue. Instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself, and eating ice cream, (finger's crossed), I've been working on the last of last year's Christmas presents. My best long-time friend had a hankering for a loon. She and her husband have bought a beautiful getaway property with loons aplenty. This lovely girl will hopefully remind her of the peace of her place by the lake when she can't be there.
Only problem is, what do I do now?