Taken For Granted

Last Wednesday I lost my voice. Well, not completely, but it was scratchy to speak, painful to swallow, and impossible to sing without wanting to die. It sounded worse than it has in years, worse than I’d ever want anyone to hear me in public. Last Wednesday was also my preview performance for Oliver. What a beautiful overlap, she said sarcastically. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to make any decipherable sounds onstage, let alone give a decent performance for Wednesday or Friday, the real opening night.

Wednesday was a struggle, and I faked it for the ensemble songs. Sorry, buddies. But thanks to swigging what felt like gallons of Mucinex, Dayquil, and hot drinks, as well as popping cough drops like candy, my voice returned in increments. By Friday I felt I’d be able to sing the Mrs Corney stuff, helped by the fact that my character is a nasty lady who doesn’t have to sing pretty. (Side note that a nasty lady is a whole ‘nother thing from a Nasty Woman, since Corney probably isn’t that cool.) But my voice still wouldn’t go above about a G.

Yesterday as I drove to Centerpoint for my performance, I was singing Beyonce in the car and hitting all the notes, or, as close as I have ever been able to hit them. Once we started the performance, I sang “Consider Yourself” and “Who Will Buy?” with the gusto I had wanted to last Wednesday. Thank goodness for modern medicine and cough drops. Which are part of modern medicine. But I digress. The point is that things we are temporarily deprived of, things we had been previous certain were ours, become quickly dear to our hearts. (Groundbreaking observation, I know.) 

As I drove to work yesterday I witnessed a violent collision between two cars: an SUV abruptly appearing from the left turn lane and a delivery van that had been cruising on through the green-lit intersection until it hit the SUV dead on. No one was hurt, amazingly.

I was driving the car directly behind the delivery van. Another second and it would’ve been me that had no time to brake before crashing. My car is much smaller than a delivery van or an SUV, and likely wouldn’t have fared so well. My hands shook as I continued my commute. I drive my car miles every day without hardly a thought. When I see the sirens that indicate an accident I think, “Wow, I hope everyone is okay” and then turn the radio back up. I forget that my car can kill me. For at least that day, I didn’t take it for granted.

On a lighter note than death, Netflix pulled Buffy the Vampire Slayer from its instant stream. -_- Not cool, not okay. It’s my all-time favorite show, for sure. If I don’t have instant access to Buffy, Spike, and early-seasons Giles I’m not going to be a happy camper. I bought the complete boxed set, but it won’t be here for at least five more days??? Unacceptable. Hurry up, US Postal Service. Justin has been asking when it’ll arrive too; we all take Joss Whedon for granted until his masterpiece isn’t readily on hand.

We take so much for granted: our families, our health, our homes. This is a reminder to hug the ones you love a little tighter. And don’t forget to binge watch while you still can. ;)