Feeling: croaky
Listening to: Toad the Wet Sprocket - Fall Down
Reading/Watching: diving into last Angel DVD: hello, Pylea

Alarm at 6:30 a.m.

Get up, shower, dress, brush teeth, head out into cold. Car is covered in ice: sit and let windows defrost, drive to church/work.

Pull over at stop sign and cough and hack while the cars behind me honk impatiently.

Warm up on Loop 410, realize my vocal cords can't duplicate the pitch in my head. Try to regain control, humming "mi mi mi" on the exit ramp.

Get to church/work, coughing still, so that voice is a harsh croak. Clock says I'm ten minutes late. Sit outside, thinking of the tiny room with no fan or vent and that incense, burning thickly the entire hour and a half. Imagine singing like a strangled chicken, coughing up a lung all over the priest's shoes.

Turn around, go home. They'll thank me for it later.

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