Wednesday is Hump Day. We all know it, that hurdle sticking up in the middle of the week that just has to be got over so we can slide down to Friday. In Hades, it's when the buses are crammed, presumably because it's the one day that everyone shows up at work or school because no one starts or finishes an illicit long weekend on a Wednesday.We're delighted that younger daughter's voice lesson falls on Hump Day, because it's a bright beacon in the centre of her tempest-tossed week. However, this particular Wednesday, the extra legwork required had just about nailed me into the ground. The fact I'd been battling a strep throat for three days was not an asset. So I was a bit slow clambering into a back entrance of an articulated bus, and the lady hurrying behind me evidently thought I'd been waiting to hold the door for her.
I sank into a window seat and she joined me companionably.
"Crazy day," she laughed, her voice as delicate as egg shells.
I managed a reasonably friendly grimace as what felt like a razor slash somewhere in the region of my uvula began to throb painfully.
"I'm afraid I'm not very well," I began apologetically.
Her eyes widened. "You sick???" she squeaked.
I nodded, and suddenly the seat next to me was empty. Bewildered, I looked about. She was now several seats ahead in the lower section. Every few seconds she'd glance back at me, her face contorted with horror.
Feeling decidedly leprous, I got off the bus and dragged myself through the Rideau Centre en route to Shoppers' Drug Mart in search of throat lozenges. Within twenty-four hours, my throat would feel better, but I'd be struck with conjunctivitis and resemble a demented Ood for three more days. After that, I'd lose my hearing, give up and get anti-biotics.
Maybe my Sari Lady was prescient. Or perhaps she thought I was going to vomit on her. I'll never know.
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Nothing for a month then two consecutive posts - joy is me! You may know that here in the UK most of spring and the first part of summer was in April this year. May has been the end (we hope) of winter and the rest of spring. June? Well, who knows. However, one portent of spring is the onset of the dawn chorus. From around 4am it starts in our back garden and although sometimes I want to sleep, I adore it. Added to that, I was playing golf at 6.30am on my own the other morning and saw a Golden Oriole, which is apparently quite rare in these parts. And now the tenuous link to your second post - is strep throat the same as a sore throat? Personally, I'm always happy to get through the winter colds and infections, because they seem to drag on so much longer than the summer varieties. But having recently retired, I no longer have to endure Wednesdays nor the health hazard that is public transport where people's hygiene habits can't be relied on. I guess that's what Sari Lady was concerned about.
Glad you're back.
Strep throat is rather more than a sore throat -- it's very painful for one thing and if you shine a flashlight towards your uvula (something I was doing a lot a couple of weeks ago), you'll see yellow or white patches. It's supposed to be what killed off Mozart (who didn't have antibiotics). I used to get it regularly when the children were small. The link is to a British web site, but I gather the expression is not as common as in Canada.
I don't blame Sari Lady for being alarmed; I just thought the theatrical backward glances were a bit much.
Golden Oriole? Nice! I've seen Baltimore Orioles here, of course, but Goldfinches are more common.
I have this image of a black-masked Salieri sitting next to Mozart on a number 19 Salzburg bus and coughing a lot in his direction.....
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