Monday 5th October – Party at Miffy’s House
Today is a holiday for some reason or other. Labour Day apparently. Bronwen and I drove up to Miffy’s house in Maleny, for a BBQ she was having for her birthday.
Bronwen* and I applied for volunteer roles at Woodford. We chose to be Volunteer Security with the Festival Watch Department.
* There is no record that Bronwen ever applied.
Tuesday 6th October – Throat Plague
I drove into work, though by the time I went to get Subway for lunch, I was barely able to talk—it took me three attempts to tell the sandwich artist what salads I wanted. I appear to have caught some kind of throat plague. It’s not especially painful (though not pleasant either) but I’ve all but lost my voice.
Bronwen and I had a quiet night at home, and two minute noodles for dinner.
Wednesday 7th October – Itchy Spots
I stayed home as I was still sick, and my not especially painful throat is now especially painful, and I still can’t talk.
Bronwen and I had pizza for dinner, and picked up a few groceries at Woolworths. We watched the movie “Minions” (at home), which was quite bad.
I found a few itchy spots—one on each arm, and perhaps some on my legs, though on closer inspection perhaps they weren’t—which made me paranoid that I have some kind of infectious disease.
Thursday 8th October – Laryngitis
I worked from home, as I’m still sick and can’t talk. I used up my entire day’s worth of words talking to the receptionist on the phone making an appointment to see the doctor, and then had to write down all my questions and email them to myself to show the doctor on my phone as I couldn’t then talk to her. She read my email and took throat swabs, but was unable to magically cure me.
I had a quiet night, eating at home, and continuing to not talk. Sleeping is painful.
Friday 9th October – Laryngitis
I again stayed home, as I still can’t talk. I think I might be getting a bit better… but it’s difficult to say—if I am, it’s certainly not much. I also didn’t have any work to do, so edited some photos and wrote a journal entry instead, and wallowed around in painful (but silent) misery.
Bronwen made pasta for dinner. I still can’t talk.