I lost my freaking voice

Last weekend I freakishly lost my voice. All of it, it's gone. I never felt bad, but I just can't sing in the car, or at church, or TALK normally. The dr. put me on allergy meds thinking it was an allergic reaction and then asked me NOT TO TALK for a few days. For those of you that know me well, you should get a special kick out of that one. I think it's physically impossible for me to not talk. I once had a teacher in high school bet me $10 that I couldn't make it for the 50 minute period without making any noise. I made it 48 minutes and lost the bet. It's now been 7 days with a crappy voice. I tried to not talk very much for a few days, no improvement, gave up and now I just sound like a frog. ribbit. ribbit.

I started out having a crappy morning. Curling iron (aka weapon torture) slipped out of my sleepy fingers, and fell in that slow-motion action where you can almost hear the "na na na na na" like on the million dollar man show and you would THINK I could get out of the damn way, landed right on my forearm, giving me a lovely red singed stripe down my butt-white arm. nice. I was so pissed I yanked the plug out, tossed it down in the cabinet and stuck my arm under cold water for a few minutes while creating new versions of curse word strings. I could've been a poet. After I finally calm down, I realize, oh crap, the darn thing was COLD and we had to leave to take the kids to school so I had flat funky bangs ANYWAY and burned myself for no apparent reason. nice.

Driving down I-35 south to Olate, I realized that someone must have hidden major magnets in the sides of my blazer as THREE, count them ONE TWO THREE people decided to merge into me within the space of two exits. The first one startled me, the 2nd one pissed me off, after the 3rd one I started laughing insanely. It's not like I'm driving some tiny little car, it's a good sized RED blazer. cripes. No wrecks, no real cussing, got my heart going.

Get to work, fill my arms with all the files of crap I was supposed to do last night but fell asleep on the couch instead, requisite ceremonial first diet coke of the day, purse, tennies and other misc. crap, have ONE finger available to click the lock on the truck and realized the damn thing is out of battery power. MY CLICKIE IS DEAD..... that almost made me cry. How sad is that? I had to put down all my stuff, actually PUSH THE AUTOMATIC LOCK button and pick up all the crap and go again. How lazy have I gotten that I was pissed about that? How did our mothers actually push down the LOCKS on each door? Oh, yeah, we didn't have crazy carjacking people then, so we normally didn't lock doors. But still, it was like I'd lost the remote and had to actually walk across the room to change the channel, I felt like a freaking pioneer.

Knitting news, I'm joining the xback tank knitalong to make the CUTE, sexy tank from Knitty. Anyone want to make this with me? It calls for ribbon yarn, and I have a BUTTLOAD of the lion brand stuff left over from my first tank, but it's pretty itchy stuff. I think I need to go shopping. It sounds like a lot of ladies really liked the results of the Crystal Palace Deco Ribbon, I think I need a trip to the LYS!