Sick Day

I was awakened in the wee hours of the morning by the ferocity of my own hacking. Like a five-pack-a-day smoker coughing up a hairball, the sound was as painful as my throat. The commotion brought Max, my Doberman, trotting to the side of my bed. Hot dog-breath in my face triggered the next round of coughing.
"Go away!"
My pathetic squeak, heard only by Max and myself was, nonetheless, embarrassing.
A teacher with no voice is useless.
Geez...I'm going to have to take a sick day.

It's rare that I've ever taken a sick day because I was actually sick. As the mother of three kids, most of the sick time I've ever used was because I had to stay home with a feverish child, or spend time with my dad in the hospital, or the week I had to take off work when my house caught fire. Then there were the days when I was driving the old Subaru and she just couldn't get herself out of the driveway.

My substitute folder has emergency lesson plans for my classes which don't require any art supplies. Problem is, my students are really good at conning subs into letting them continue working on their projects. What they aren't so good at is cleaning up with out commandant-like supervision.
We are in the middle of a painting unit.
I can only pray that my classroom is not a complete disaster when I return.