The doctor on Wednesday took a throat swab and told me to take advil. He told me he’d know more on Friday, or maybe monday. Thanks for the help, dude. This is why I wanted to see my doctor… at least I feel like I’m being paid attention to. Anyhow, still hurts every time I swallow. Still got weird marks at the back of my throat, and still coughing a lot (although not from the lungs anymore – it’s all in my throat now.) Ah well, I should know if it’s treatable today. And if it’s nothing they can give me meds for, then I guess I just keep going as I have been. How depressing.
I still want Jell-O… and some Lipton Cup-A-Soup (chicken noodle only, not one of these fancy new flavours I keep finding when I’m looking for plain chicken noodle. I’ll try the new flavours when I’m not craving chicken noodle.)
The other night at the Theatre, I was watching the finale (which is the loudest part of the show) from my position in Upper Balcony (if you’ve ever been to the Royal Alexandra, you may have sat in Upper Balcony – the cheap seats.) As I was watching, I saw a piece of paint flake off the ceiling and drift slowly down to the orchestra level. I think the place could use some renovation. And the subwoofer is maybe a bit too much. And that cobweb that’s been attached to the ceiling next to the chandelier since months before I started there in September… maybe they could sweep the ceiling or something? But what do I know, I’m just an usher. I’d be happy if they just replaced the numbers on the seats with missing numbers. It confuses the patrons.