ritaxis | can't sing, can't even talk

I don't feel sick till I try to do stuff but I have no voice at all. I talked to Emma when I took her to work but it was pointless - I don't know how she understood a word I was saying. I can whisper, and I can produce a tiny creaky unmelodious noise that sort of approaches speaking but it's exhausting and I can't imagine taking care of babies tomorrow like this. Recall that one of my most successful techniques for crowd management and transistions and routines and getting kids through the blues is the Stupid Little Song. And my early education philosophy is rooted in Talk to Them and Tell Them Stuff.

So I guess I'm texting my boss again. I want to say obscene things but I don't like any of the ones that come to mind.

On another front,it is difficult to find Derby Park, but we got there after I dropped Emma off and we had a lovely walk in the beautiful after-the-rain weather.

Also, I figured out what the hell the tree images on Ludmilla's and Yanek's bellies are all about. But I'm worried it's a complete game changer. What does it mean if their mother comes from a people who have been incorporating plant chromosomes into their bodies on an irregular basis for no particular reason for centuries?

I'm pretty sure they don't photosynthesize. Except maybe in emergencies?