It looks like Chez FOO has been felled by another nasty virus. Good times! Charlie is on ANOTHER course of antibiotics, my voice is back but my throat is killing me, and HS is coughing up a storm.
You know, I kind of miss my throaty voice. Once I moved past the hoarse whisper to adolescent voice-cracking, I had a husky Kathleen-Turner-in-Romancing-the-Stone rasp and then a sexy, Demi-Moorish lilt. I even think that the doctor we saw at the drop-in clinic was flirting with me a little. And the pharmacist was super-duper nice when I got Charlie's script filled. It could be all in my heavily medicated head, I know. But still, an ego-boost is good for the soul, no?
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