Ever witnessed the duck shoot at the state fair–little metal duckies, with big red bulls-eyes, innocently ‘floating’ back and forth, back and forth, whilst kids and adults alike attempt to shoot them down in a frenzied bid for a prize that, more likely than not, is little more than a fire hazard?
Yes, well, I’m beginning to feel a bit like one of those ducks.
Work gets weirder and more uncertain by the day. Yesterday, it seems, we received the warning shot. Sure, we may not have been the downed duck, but the game’s set to begin anew . . .
Needless to say, I can totally get behind this whole Fat Tuesday business. Nothing like eating your weight in jambalaya, drowning your sorrows in a hurricane, and polishing off a King Cake to make a person feel better about life in general.
Unless, of course, you can get a case of motion sickness from being a moving target–in which case, sucks to be me . . .