Woke up feeling much more human this morning, but had a voice that suggests I have somehow been smoking a pack-and-a-half a day without my knowledge.
Besides being stunned at the memory of smoking like a chimney (I easily doubled that consumption on drinking occasions, and as I've noted, there were several of those in the bad ol' days), I am still a little wary as to my health. It does feel as though I will successfully vanquish this bug in time for tonight's and Sunday's performances, not to mention Monday's travel, but I'm not counting on it.
Being the superstitious type, I'm not going to put this belief in my future well-being into declarative sentence form: That would be asking for it. BIG TIME. (Like bronchitis on top of sinus infection asking for it, in case you're wondering.)
The good news is my voice can warble up into the higher registers (almost into Aunt Bea territory--if you don't know who Aunt Bea is, ask one of your elders), so losing an octave or two to a cold is not bad news for me or for the people who have to listen to me speak.
Which, goddess willing, they'll be doing in Winchendon tonight. Better go get some work done, so I can flit off tonight work-anxiety free....
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