That didn't happen. Here's what did.
Sparing you the gory details, I've had this bloody thing for over a week and now have lost my voice. Saturday was kinda cool. I was walking around with sick voice. You can't duplicate that so I figured I'd take advantage of it, you know, doing Darth Vader impressions and recording "Redrum. Redrum!" on my phone. It was wicked fun. Which tells you a little about my life.But yesterday...I woke up and couldn't speak.
Oh, yeah. It's all fun and games until someone loses a voice.
As I was scribbling away on a notepad for my husband and kids, I realized how quickly I speak. My hand simply couldn't keep up with my thoughts. It was infuriating. I started flailing around and, of course, nobody could figure out what I was trying to mime. I'm very bad at charades. I quit talking, writing, and miming.
Then I noticed something.
The house, my house with my husband and two little boys was quiet. I know my husband asked them to keep it down so I could rest, but, seriously. Quietness was invading my house like a noxious gas. It was weird. Creepy, even. I hate when my kids get hyper and loud. Those two small kids can sound like a herd of stampeding buffalo. It's bad. Oh, the noise, noise, noise, noise!But I realized how much my own voice (raised over the din) adds to the noise here. This is something that probably, in retrospect, should have been obvious to me but, alas, here I am writing about my epiphany.
My house (without my constant "settle down", "calm down", "keep it down") was a quieter place. I am a contributor to the noise that I hate. Also, my mind races and I pretty much say what's on my mind.
To summarize, I lost my voice and realized I need to slow down and be quiet.
Try not talking for an hour. Just one hour. (Maybe 20 minutes.) What happens? Are you frustrated? Relaxed? What about the other members of your house? Are they quieter or louder without your direction?
