I lost it.
No, not my marbles – although half of the time I think I’ve lost those, too. It usually happens around the time that I think I know how to handle the mules.
Not my temper. At least not today.
And not my bubbling personality (seriously, can’t you tell that I am still brimming with enough effervescence that even Alka Seltzer is jealous?).
Nope. I lost something even more precious.
I lost my voice.
When the Country Boy first heard the news – or maybe I should say, unheard me – he did a mock cheer. You see, in our household, I am the chatty one. I am the one whose biceps are strong from simply carrying on the bulk of conversations. Country Boy is a strong, silent type. He’ll talk, and he’s always polite. But he’s not going to expound on the merits of Greek debt bailouts and the impact it will have on the future of loan financing processes when college costs continue to rise and the girls are looking to go to a university that specializes in engineering plastics that will replace the bazillion k-cups sold every year.
OK, I am not sure how many people would actually expound on all of that, but unfortunately (for the Country Boy and my family) I AM the type of person who would spend some time fretting about those things and feel the need to share it.
Which may be why he seemed so happy at first when he heard I lost my voice.
That was Friday.
Saturday, the Country Boy went….wait…can you guess it? That’s right, hunting. We didn’t get a chance to see one another until later in the evening. My poor friend, Kathryn, had to suffer listening to me all day.
I’m telling you, a friend who will hang out with you when you sound like a squeak toy is a friend to hold onto.
As a side note, Kathryn’s daughter’s birthday was Saturday and we surprised her at the ice rink with a mini-party. She was surprised and probably a little embarrassed by the attention, but she was thrilled to see her Mom at the rink.
Come Sunday, the Country Boy got to about 1:30 in the afternoon before he cracked. My squeak was driving him crazy.
So I did the only thing that I could think of – I left him at home to wander the woods in silence and solitude. And I’m betting that during those moments alone, there may have been a few prayers from that man for a quick healing of my voice with a promise to not be so happy when I lose it the next time.
Now I need to catch up on my newspaper reading so I have things to talk about once I get my voice back.