O dreaded expectoration

I came back from Seattle with a bit of a sore throat. It started in the airport where Rob and I almost casually missed our flight home because the time on his iPhone was wrong. By the time I went to sleep last night, cold medicine coursing through my body in whatever way cold medicine does that, my throat felt like it had closed up completely, and the discomfort of feeling gunk in it caused me to spend the better part of the night making sounds that might mean something in Kinitawowi. I am not a fan of mouth noises. Nor throat noises. Nor nose noises. Even -- or perhaps especially -- when they are coming from me. I beg the universe's forgiveness, in case it was listening.