Squeaking By

Just call me Wheezy. Not to be confused with Louise "Weezie" Jefferson from The Jeffersons. I'm talking about Toy Story Wheezy. Remember him?

Wheezy, the squeaking penguin, had seen better days. Ever since his squeaker broke, he'd been marooned on top of a tall bookcase in Andy's room. But given another chance (and a new squeaker), the dapper penguin could still belt out a tune or two.

That's me.

Well, not the singing part. Though when I try to laugh with no voice, it does sound like a weird stereo effect.

So who knows if this week-long cold or allergy business is just that or something more fun like bronchitis. I always get burned on that. Go in to the clinic and I'm fine. Don't go in and I am scolded for not going in sooner. I don't feel sick. Just that as soon as we lay down, hubby and I are both coughing machines.

Last night I took Nyquil so I could sleep. It worked to suppress my cough, but by the time I got to work this morning, it was un-suppressing itself and I think I coughed for the whole first hour. Then I definitely had no voice. I put a sign up that said, "I am a squeaky toy. Please handle with care."

So I was Wheezy and trying to give everyone at work the same pleasure I give Jim at home – the sound of SILENCE.

No wonder everyone was smiling today.

Squeak, squeak.