Thanks For All The Nice Murder Music

It's tough selling coffee without a voice. I really don't know where it went-- Mike and I were driving back to my place around 3 or 4 this morning and it occurred to me: I'm losing my voice. It's tough; I'll go a while without talking and forget that exercising my vocal cords lets out a crackly, unbecoming murmur. Then a customer walks in. At least when I'm consistently talking for a period of time I can control my range, instead of diving into a pool of speech that isn't very deep.
This brings me to my next question: how does this happen? Is yelling responsible for every morning that has me waking up with half a voice? Here are a few occasions to which the question is directed:
-after a long night of drinking
-after going to a show
-after smoking lots of cigarettes/weed.
I don't know. This whole business boggles my mind. I'm drinking peppermint tea, though, in hopes it helps.
Earlier today I saw a squirrel. Earlier today I saw a fat squirrel. I'm talking about one squirrel here, but is that how nature works? Or, well, is that how squirrels work? I figured there was some kind of nut-stockpiling going on, not some mid-November binge eating. Then again, I'm going off a four-second observation of one squirrel.
Anyways, so there's what's up: I'm a little sick, a little hung over, and a little jonesing for a cigarette.

Okay, now I feel like shit. I just smoked a cigarette because I was bored and hoping to expel a large amount of phlegm that I suspect is impeding my speech. When I woke up this afternoon I coughed up a huge, green wad of shit that must have been in my lungs or something. It was gross and so big that getting it out almost made me puke. I can't tell if it's cold in the coffee shop or if it's my deteriorating immune system. Hm. This may not keep me in tonight, though, because I've been in the kind of mood that insists on being shortsighted and making bad decisions.
Last night must not have been enough, though it was great seeing friends I rarely get to hang out with.
Anyhow, there's work to be done so I can close up shop and get on with my life.
Oh. So I began this shift with some Nick Cave before getting into some Murder By Death. It lasted two hours or so, maybe a bit less. During the last song of that stretch, a regular, on his way out, commented: "Thanks for all the nice murder music." All I could do was smile a big, voiceless grin.