Still Battling the Kissing Disease

The Mono hasn't gone anywhere yet, not that anyone ever guaranteed  it would be gone by now, Someone suggested that resting now would probably ultimately reduce the time I'll need for recuperation later. if such is the case, I'm going to be the fasted damned recuperator in history. My parents will barely allow me to lift my hed off my pillow except when I need to visit the bathroom. I'm allowed to use my computer for fifteen minutes a day, which sounds Draconian, but's it's all I can manage anyway.

My mom was attending classes and taking notes for me, which, while very sweet of her, was mortifying to me. In my music theory class, someone didn't understand something, so my  mom explained it to him, which resulted in the professor asking about my mother's academic background. She has doctorates in music, as well as educational and clinical and psychology. To make a long story short, my professor handed his dry erase marker over to my mom, who finished his lecture for him. The only thing that might have made it worse was if I had been there. I am much relieved that all of my professors told my mom I was doing fine in class, but that they would email their lecture notes to me so that I could be prepared for final exams without the mortification of her sitting through anymore of my classes

I'm mostly too disoriented to even watch TV. My mom turns on music for me to hear, but since I'm too weak to get up and turn it on myself, I'm totally at her mercy. I'm not fond of Tchaikovsky. I'm fairly certain that listening to it has made me substantially sicker.

My dad came in with his guitar. If I had to listen to one artist for the rest of my life, it probably wouldn't be my dad, but I'd rather hear him than Tchaikovsky any day. He at least plays what I ask him to play, and he doesn't perform "Waltz of the Flowers" or anything else from "The Nutcracker Suite."

Tomorrow if my mom trries to turn on music, I'll ask her to play my parlour grand piano that now fits in my new room. She doesn't play that mush Tchaikovsky, so that aspect will be good. Perhaps she'll even take requests like my dad does. my mom was a dul voice-piano enphasis i her doctoratre, so she sings well inadditin to playing piano beyond proficiently. If I askhe to sing something by Andrew Lllod Webber, or even sometihing from "Fiddler on the Roof,"  "Brigadoon,"  or "Wicked," she'll forget all about Tchaikovsky. My favirite thing that she sings is actually "pie jesu" from Andrew Lloyd Webber's "Requiem." It's perhaps a bit morbid as it's from a funeral mass, but I can never hear it too many times.

Even though I did not contract this illness through oral contact, I'd advise anyone who happens to read this not to kiss anyone just to be safe.