You know that point where you have been sick so long that you have worn out every one's sympathy and the only way you could possibly get any more is to go into a coma?
I'm there.
But I refuse to go into a coma so the rest of you will just have to continue to listen to my sniffling and froggy voice and pretend to feel sorry for me to my face then wait at least 20 minutes after I leave to talk about how I am milking this for all it is worth behind my back.
Thank you.
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Art mystery possibly solved?
2 days ago
1 comment:
If it's any comfort, you actually LOOK much better. And then you talk. Poor thing. It's not the froggy, it's the hollow kind of sound from the chest congestion. I wanted to give you hot tea with honey and whiskey. I could bring some! In any case, you get the trooper award for your stage work while under fire from your own body.
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