Sick as a dog and other Southern sayings for when you feel like poo

A bout with a sinus infection, fever, bronchitis, and all the yuck that goes along with being sick has me thinking about Southern sayings again. I’ve definitely used several over the last few days. And as I sit here under my favorite afghan surrounded by a pile of Kleenexes (both used and not) sipping on orange juice, hot tea, and hot toddies, I thought I’d hack out a quick post to let you know how I really feel.

Here’s a dose of my favorite Southern idioms that I’ve used while sick:

When it started creeping up on me, I felt sick as a dog. Lower than a snake’s belly, truth be told.

I started running fever and felt hotter than a possum in a wool sock. Then, when the chills came on, I was colder than a witch’s titty in a brass brassiere. (Not ladylike I know, but neither is snot running down your face. So there. This is no time for manners.)

Then I felt like death.

Then I felt like death on a cracker.

Then I felt like I’d been shot at and missed but shit at and hit.

After two days of all this, I was about to get to where I couldn’t dip my own plate. That’s when I decided to take the bull by the horns. Even though I knew I looked like the north end of a southbound pig, I made the trek to the doctor’s office.

The doctor took my temperature and said, “Shoo-weee, you’re at hot as Satan’s taint!” (Not really, but this seemed like a good place to put this one, and I’m still running a fever so I get a pass for lack of judgment…)

His diagnosis? That I looked like something the cat dragged in. (Officially, a sinus infection, but my version is better.) And once I got a shot in the a-double-slinky-letters, I merely felt like death warmed over.

I made sure to get a doctor’s note before I left. After all, I don’t want my boss to think I had a case of the “jus’ causes” — that I laid out of my job “jus’ cause” I didn’t feel like working.

Now I’m back home and wrapped up in my afghan, just as snug as a bug in a rug. I’m about ready to hitch up my bootstraps and get back to normal, though. But while the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak.

Pretty soon though, I’ll be as right as rain. After all, I’m a hard dog to keep under the porch.