Monday I was whining about the weather; Tuesday I could not even whine, having awakened with a throat so sore I could barely whisper. Now this is annoying, the first cold in almost two years, but also horrid timing, as today, Wednesday, was our celebration of the Passover Seder, and in 20 years of Seder, only once did I not lead the group in song.
Alex could not be there to fill in for me this time either, due to a scheduling ... a scheduling ... I can't call it what I want to call it, so I'll simply say that someone was extremely oblivious to what other things were going on in the parish. That's kinder than saying "extremely insensitive," perhaps.
Bernie, through no fault of his own, gave me this cold. So crummy luck though it may be, I was somewhat assured that it would not be the most vile of colds, and indeed it was an odd one. Last week he spent a day in bed, mostly sleeping, feeling like crap with a sore throat. (That is, if crap had a throat at all.) The next day, he complained of feeling light-headed, but by evening was not all that bad.
Sure enough, although I had to sleep sitting up in a chair, and slept little, this morning I woke with no sore throat, and a head that felt like it was packed inside with cotton. By noon I was eeping around the house looking for food; by five I was showered and prepping things for packing in the car. Amazing!
Now it must be said that my voice was definitely NOT good by any means. I did a passable job reading the parts of the Haggadah I usually read; the singing part ... well, I got the group started, and they did a fine job from there. (It was pretty much the shittiest song-leading I've ever done.)
Now, if only the pseudophedrine I took in order to squeak through the singing would allow me to fall asleep, I might feel like a real live girl by tomorrow.