Sick

I’m lying here in bed, watching about my 20th episode of West Wing in my third day of being sick. I hate being sick! You’ll have to imagine that last line being yelled at the top of my lungs while my voice crackles, the phlegm running over my chords.

Damn you, American Work Ethic. Why did I sing yesterday and on Friday? Both times, I thought I was going to pee my pants for fear right before my solo came up. I have to prove to those people that gave me that solo that I can be consistent and reliable. To crack on my solo would be not just a personal embarrassment but would also make my chances of getting more solos nil or close to it. Really, though, I am coming to learn, I should have just called in sick, but with my understudy also out sick, and the core of the Men’s Chorus down to just me, I didn’t have much choice. It just pisses me off, though, that no one seems to have noticed that I readily put my self in harm’s way for the benefit of all. So, like I said, damn you, American Work Ethic.

Oh, and, by the way, being sick sucks!