Friday, April 03, 2009

It should have been obvious to me that coming in to work today was a bad idea. I had hoped that by going to Milwaukee to see The Gaslight Anthem, I could also return this Tuberculosis/SARS/Black Plague that I received on my last visit. By the time I hit Appleton to pick up Brent yesterday afternoon, the illness was clearly becoming self-aware, gaining strength and weakening my ability to talk.

Clearly, shouting along to songs was also ill advised, but when they do that one about Joe Strummer or when they cover one of the best Tom Petty songs ever, one can't help but sing along loudly, even if you can feel your vocal chords shredding.

But, no, I figured today is Friday and Friday is usually long and boring, with no issues to speak of. Big mistake. My first one was trying to fix a printer and the guy says to me while I'm looking it over "Man, you sound like hell." "Yeah, I feel like it, too." "No, man, you sound like it hurts to even talk!" "The pain is indescribable.". I hoped maybe guy would get the point and just let me fix this shit and be on my way, but while I was contemplating a sledge hammer to fix this one, dude strikes up more conversation and keeps it up while I'm clearly straining to get words out.

My voice at the moment is somewhat like the raspy growl of Dicky Barrett which occasionally cracks into a high pitched Marge Simpson voice and each word that tries to get out feels like a pissed of wolverine is stuck in my throat. I wish there was a way to use sign language on a telephone because it's near impossible to say the word password right now, making a password reset an adventure in pain.

While I'm on the subject of adventures in pain:

said Tommy T. at 4:14 PM - #

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