Skinning the Cat

My head feels like a mushroom and my chest like a load of bricks is sitting on it.

My nose feels like I used it to draw a hop-scotch design on the sidewalk.

My ears have pins and needles poking through them.

My throat feels like I’ve taken up sword and fire swallowing but I haven’t yet mastered the trade.

My head, although I know it’s the heaviest part of one’s body feels like it’s twice it’s normal weight and it may snap my neck off at anytime.

I’ve consumed enough water to fill a tanker and I’ve made enough trips to the bathroom to wear down a path on the laminate floor.

I haven’t yet looked in the mirror which I suspect is a good thing since fits of laughter sets off coughing sprees.

Still, I don’t know what my worry is since I don’t do colds!

Or maybe I should say, I didn’t, but Andree thought she’d share with me. Obviously I didn’t have the heart to turn her down.

Between the snoring and the coughing going on between the two of us in here last night it’s a wonder the neighbours didn’t call in 911.

Enough of this! This morning I’ve decided to pack my bag and head out the door. I don’t know when I’ll be back.

I’m heading to the pool. Once I’ve done a lap or two, which might be all I’m able to do instead of my usual 45 minutes, I will hit the steam room and sweat this out. There’s got to
be more than one way to skin a cat. I’m hoping this is it.