Monday, November 12, 2007

The sound of a whisper

There is a scene in "A Knight's Tale" where one of the characters is introducing Heath Ledger before a jousting competition in a long, inflated monologue. He says that Heath Ledger "spent a year on a mountain in a Italian monastery just to understand the sound of a whisper".....

Well, I know exactly what a whisper sounds like. Because I can't talk.

That's right. I'm sick. I'm sick, miserable and whiny all at once. And Ben won't let me work out, so add cranky to that list. The Blond Duck is not amused.

At first, my voice just sounded like it had been roughed up with sandpaper. Then it simply decided to go on hiatus, leaving me with a croak and inability to whine.

When you're sick, there is nothing worse than the inability to whine. So I decided to whine to my Invisible Friends, who are most likely wondering when I'll start talking about Henry the Lizard or Fuzzy the Spider.

However, when you don't talk much for a few days, you learn the importance of non-verbal body language.

For instance, say I want to communicate that even if I can't talk, I'm still perfectly able to work out. I simply mimic punching and kicking motions and add a pleading face with a extended lower lip. If that doesn't work, I collapse on the ground in a fit of despair mournfully howling. Except that instead of actually howling, I have to hold up a piece of paper that says, "I am mournfully howling."

If I'm hungry, I simply point to my stomach, point to my mouth and point to the kitchen. Adding big glassy eyes and flopping over on the couch like I can't survive another second without a morsel of substance helps too.

If I want to express my displeasure at being stuck on the couch for hours at a time, I simply run frantically for the door and hold on tightly as Ben tries to peel me off and put me back on said couch. It helps to re-use the "mournfully howling" sign.

When my fever goes back up and I start feeling tired and generally "gross", heavy sighs, pouting and general miserable looks go a long way to stirring up pity. And pity generally gets you pancakes. I like pancakes.

While other sick people might be content to roll over and accept defeat, I refer to my ailments of fever, coughing, inability to breathe due to the snot content in my sinuses and sore throat as "minor complications." In order to maintain my ability to work out and prance about the world, I made Ben several nice handwritten cards about how nice he was to me. When the cards didn't work, I again resorted to the "mournfully howling" sign.

Until then, the sound of a whisper is not nearly mysterious and profound as one may think. It is merely the wheezing of my breath through my overly clogged sinuses.