Just Ducky

Have these past few days been more fun than a barrel of monkeys? No, not exactly the cat’s meow. I’m busy as a beaver in this dog-eat-dog world, but a nasty cold has recently rendered me as useless as tits on a bull. I’m not bright-eyed nor bushy-tailed. In fact, I’m downright owly. I have a frog in my throat, and one minute sport goose bumps while the next sweat like a pig. And with pillow hair and drippy nose, I definitely look like something the cat dragged in. I’ve been moving at a snail’s pace and so dog tired that I cat nap until the cows come home. This affliction is definitely for the birds, but I’m not going to have kittens over it or let it get my goat. I’ve taken the bull by the horns and, like a chicken on a June bug, made a beeline to the grocery store for Puffs, soup and Robitussin. I’m not as hungry as a bear, but have been drinking orange juice like a fish. I may no longer be a spring chicken, but don’t think my goose is cooked just yet. I’m stubborn as a mule and have bigger fish to fry. I hope to soon be grinning like the Cheshire cat and once again feeling just ducky.