Cautiously on Monday

I am currently tiptoeing around my head (metaphorically speaking, that is), stifling any impulse to report a lack of headache because knock wood, cross fingers, throw salt over the left shoulder and spit, do something to appease the spirits in charge of such things.

Which means that last night was awful (at one point I actually said, "Hello, rock bottom, we meet again," which actually was not rock bottom, since at rock bottom I am nowhere near so coherent, but I could see it coming in like a tsunami), and today it doesn't hurt barely at all* but I am deathly afraid it will come back. Which, when you have a headache that ebbs and flows over Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, is not an unreasonable fear, if you ask me.
*I call this level one, aka "I am aware of my head"

Meanwhile, the cats continue to be cute while exercising their superpowers of sleep.

Don't let the relaxed appearance fool you, she would flee in a nanosecond if I got much closer.

The fluff kills me. Meanwhile, his highness raised his head when I came in, so technically, he's awake here.

 Just about 1/16th awake, I estimate.

The Tardis shawl is on hold while I knit some love for someone who needs it.

Hearts in yarn form. Best I can do for now.