When I woke up this morning, I sensed something wrong. I looked outside and noticed the rain. That was it, I was sure. I stared out my window and watched it for a minute. But that wasn’t it, I realized that immediately after I swallowed; I had a sore throat.

There was a little knife stuck in my throat. Lovely. Just what I needed. It’s persistence was very annoying. I put on my pink hoodie, and went downstairs to make some hot tea.

But not even my favorite tea could dislodge the knife. So I ate a cookie. I admit, it wasn’t the best thing I could do. My mom has told me so often that sugar lowers the immune system, that she might as well have engraved it on my forehead. But it was chocolate with pink M&M’s in it, and it was delicious. So at least I was a little happier.

I waited a few hours to see if the knife would go away before letting the Cubbie director know I was sick and couldn’t make it, but it was inevitable. It was a depressing thing to do. I look forward to Wednesdays because of the Cubbies, but I don’t want to get anyone sick. But now, I don’t really know what to do with my day. I should probably dust, but I’d much rather not. I didn’t have much school to do, because I’m changing math courses, and I haven’t gotten the new course yet. I guess I could practice the piano.

I had a piano lesson yesterday. It was awful, or should I say, I was awful. I seem to have found the one thing I’m worst at. I’m just not musical. There’s this disconnect in my brain between the notes on the page and the keys on the piano, the size of the nile river. Nothing makes me feel stupider. Not to mention how embarrassing it is to still be in level one at my age. I hate sitting in the waiting room with my level one book, sitting next to seven year olds getting ready to play Mozart, and five year olds with their level one flash cards, and listening to a thirteen year old opera singer practice.

And then there’s the actual lesson, that’s the worst. I like my teacher, she’s not the problem, it’s me. I doubt she gets paid enough to put up with me. The last two lessons, I even cried a little out of frustration. My recital can’t be far enough away.


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