So Meesto and I were watching North and South again, and he paused it at the scene where Fanny Thornton is sitting at the table with needle and thread. "You do that," he said.Oh, no.
"Do what?" Why am I asking? I already know.
"Sing like that."Fanny Thornton hums wordlessly and annoyingly to herself in a high-pitched soprano as she works.
"No, I don't."
"Yes, you do. Oh, no, don't stop doing it. It's adorable!"
Fanny Thornton is NOT an adorable character. And her voice is really, really, really high-pitched. Sort of the way my mother's glass-breaking soubrette soprano is also really, really, really high-pitched. And I'm basically my Mom's clone. And ... our next door neighbor, who is rather deaf, just waves to me and doesn't try talking to me because my voice registers for him right up there with the laughter of bats. You know, eeeeeeeeeeeee.
I know all this, logically. I just never think about it because somehow, in my head, to me, I sound all womanly and grown up and adult and impressive and not at all like a 10 year old girl.
And then Spencer, the giant Siamese boy cat, helpfully suggests, "MAU."
"Is my voice higher-pitched than the cat's?" I ask.
Meesto considers, looking back and forth between me and the cat. "Yes."
"Nooooooo!" I say, but it probably sounds like eeeeeeeeeeeee!
Meesto laughs. "Que es mas macho, lightbulb o schoolbus? Schoolbus!" he says, gesturing at the cat.
You know what high-pitched song I have been humming along to (probably annoyingly) with headphones on as I work? Oh, dear.
The 14 pound Siamese Schoolbus is totally more macho than Dido.