He Has No Voice: Sighs of Relief are Everywhere.

For me, ol' Mister "I'm Talking and I Can 't Shut Up" this is really painful. No words issue from this voice box, only croaks, wheezing, and the occasional blurp. There is little soreness, but if I try to speak, a coughing jag ensues and it ain't pretty.

I ran out this morning to run a few errands and thankfully had to utter few words.  I raced home to wait for friend Eddie to text that he was going to deliver my hospitalized PC, seemingly revived and with a new lease on life.  When he arrived I a croaked a greeting and he laughed.  I let it pass.  The PC seems to be functioning well, but I cannot get the printer drivers to cooperate with the Windows 7, as it once did.  The more frustrating Microsoft becomes, the less patience I have for the company. Plug n' Play?  Bulls**t.  If Eddie can't get the PC to recognize the printer I have another decision to make;  A new printer or a new computer. We shall see. All I know is this BS is working on my last gay nerve.

As I feared, all programs were lost, as were most personal files.  Eddie was able to salvage some personal stuff, which he saved to one massive folder with my name as the title. I will likely be sorting through that folder most of the evening and all of tomorrow to discover what is there and what is lost forever. If there are files I can't remember, well that's even better.  No great loss there, eh?

As mentioned in a recent post, I was suppose to join the locoguys and other staff for dinner tonight at the Buttery in Lewes  but I've bowed out. I can't talk and the stress of communicating in such a group would only make my throat sore, bring on more coughing, and make everyone giggle at my vain attempts to speak above a whisper. I'll pass on that for now.  To say I am bummed out by this turn of events would be an understatement, but it is what it is.

No olives this evening, no talking, no singing, no vocalizing whatsoever.  I'm ready for just a bit of Jameson's, neat. Then a light supper.

And so it goes.
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