Squawk, squawk~*

Regret was an indulgence that she wouldn't allow.


- 'The Lost Hours' by Karen White

I'm as voiceless as a rabbit.
Well, I can probably still manage an occasional squeak (more like squawk).
This is terrible.

To think that yesterday I was still happily chatting with the psych peeps.
Then, as the day went on, it turned into a struggle to speak in my normal voice range with tako at night after star-gazing session (my Einstein module...).
Soon, I was in the baritone range (I used to be a soprano ONE. how come nobody ever believes me???)
And this morning, I was coughing my lungs out and choking on my own phlegm (disgusting, I know).
Then, I was squawk-talking to my sis and dad.

tsk, tsk.

Jas, seriously. 

(on a side note, firefox is so unkind to blogger. things I type turn out warped. anyway, I've been using google chrome to blog so this first attempt to try and use firefox instead has deterred me from using firefox to access blogger again.)