So for the last three days I've had the worst summer cold I've ever had. The thing about my colds is that they always, always land in my throat and I lose my voice. This has been the case for years, but especially in the last two decades that I've been working telephone customer service. Nothing better that a phone rep with laryngitis. Even more cruel is the fact that my speaking voice is, quite frankly, my only natural talent. It's the reason I've managed to keep phone jobs for so long. "She's so good on the phone."
I was even told once that I should operate my own phone sex line. "It doesn't matter what you look like," a former employer of mine told me...(he got fired from his position LONG before I quit that job, so I had a certain sense of victory!)
Anyway, not only can't I talk, but I feel like complete creeping crud. So yesterday, Monday, I bailed out of all my after work obligations, went home, and took a nap.
I got up at 6 Pm to a kitchen full of teens making mac and cheese, and a huge hot mess. I was surprised...Skippy almost never has friends over. Which means his friends don't have a working knowledge of what I look like when I'm not sick. Chances are, they assumed that what I looked like at that moment was "good."
I was going to say something, but I couldn't, and besides, I wasn't exactly in any shape to be receiving company. Hey, how pretty are YOU after a nap when you've been sick? (Those of you who know me and have seen my bed head, well, you just go ahead and laugh amongst yourself.)
So, while they ate, I wrapped myself up in a blanket (chills and sweats, chills and sweats) and watched some Tour DE France coverage. (I do love other people working physically hard for my entertainment.) After a little bit, Skippy's friend, I'll call him Eddie, came into the living room and asked if he could take Kit-ten into the basement with him because the girls wanted to play with Kit-ten, but obviously NOT around me. I said sure.
To which Eddie said, "Come on Kit-ten, let's go play with the pretty young ladies."
Now, it didnt' occur to me to be insulted, until Eddie turned around and said, "which isn't to say you're not pretty, or young."
I let out a laugh, or something I wanted to be a laugh, but of course it really sounded more like a walrus bark. Eddie took two more steps away and came back to add one final dart," You, you are wise."
That's what that little fart called me. I'm sick, I can't talk, I'm high on what I believe is a fairly dangerous mix of over the counter drugs, and this Eddie Haskell comes into my house and tells me I'm wise. No one wants to be wise! What woman ever said, "Hey, you can be sexy and cute and funny. I'll be wise."
I barked again, because really, what, I'm going to be insulted by the fact that he's actually trying to dig himself out of a hole I didn't know was even there? I've always loved watching guys twist after they've said something stupid, especially when what they said wasn't really that stupid.
So I sent Eddie on his way, telling him he'll make a great politician someday. Not a big compliment in my world, but for a 16 year old, it is I guess, because he thanked me for that. Teens and adults really do speak a completely different language.
Meanwhile, I'll just ride out this wave of voiceless wisdom. But rest assured, the day will come when I get my voice back...we'll see just how wise I am then!
As a post script, I do have to brag just a tiny bit. Skippy got a 3 on his AP World History exam that he took this past spring. (Results came in today.) This means college credit and a big step toward that college scholarship we so desperately need! Whoo hoo Skippy!
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