I still can't talk, although I did sound a tad bit better this afternoon I think.
I've mainly been communicating to my students through the grace of interpretive dance. Imagine Elaine of Seinfield mixed with Charlie Brown's Christmas and you've got my moves.
I was going to include a YouTube video, but that would require getting off my bum and going into the other room to use the computer. I'm far too busy hacking a lung into the sleeves of my giant pink bathrobe to bother with that nonsense.
At least we've got leftover pizza...that might be enough to lure me off the sofa.
"Lemon, isn't there a slanket somewhere you should be filling with your farts?"
That's all I got folks. That's all I got.
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