I have been without voice for two days. Two days of epic silence in the Mitchell household and we’re all at a bit of a loss. Wes thought for sure that life would be bliss without benefit of my yammering but he confessed last night that he misses my small talk. Now that I’ve written about it on my blog he is sure to be reminded of this confession every time he tells me that he despises small talk. As such, he will probably regret that statement for the rest of his life.
The truth is, I miss my voice too. There’s little I like more than talking to the puppy (who is in puppy heaven as he has spent nothing but time with us for three days straight) singing in the kitchen, and having screaming pretend fights with Wes about things like whether or not I’m really being ridiculous and who is truly to blame for the forlorn dishes left in the sink (Hint: It’s never me.)
Also, it’s really hard to discipline the dog when your only weapon is a whisper. Luckily, Doc has phenomenal hearing so he gets what I’m saying most of the time. Also, we’ve found that clapping works well as a deterrent, because it’s loud, but I’m worried that Doc is going to just start assuming that we’re always applauding him whenever he’s naughty.
One nice thing about The Sickness is that it makes me tired and therefore tractable. I’m surprisingly easy to get along with when I’m sick because I’m generally too tired to put up much of a fight.
For example, last night Wes wanted to share some anime with me. I’m normally pretty abhorrent toward anime because my first boyfriend made me watch Dragon Ball Z with him all the time, in the original Japanese, with no subtitles and words (not even Japanese words) cannot express how much that scarred me toward the whole genre.
Wes knows this, and as such has been easing the idea of watching anime into our conversations for weeks now. He knows that the only way to get around my resolute resolve is to slowly inch around it and make me think it was my idea. He’s a clever one, that man.
Last night, he broached the topic of watching anime as a sort of intro experience. He told me we’d watch the first five minutes of Final Fantasy: Advent Children and then switch to Ratatouille and I said sure because I was tired and sick. Then, a strange thing happened: I liked it. It was pretty, and the story was interesting, and it made Wes happy, so I suggested we watch the whole thing.
I told him it’s not a bad thing to be forced to try new things. I figure if he can suffer through Sex and the City with me that the least I can do is watch pretty anime that comes with subtitles.
I have the feeling that next on his list of things to get me to like is Ultimate Fighting. I’m not sure about that as it’s not really my cup of tea. It’s interesting to a point but also really, well, I’m just pretty certain I’ll grow chest hair if I watch too much of it. As much as I enjoy watching a guy pin another guy down and asphyxiate him slowly, I’d much rather knit a scarf or try on all my shoes and admire the way they make my feet look.