Did Anyone Get the Number of That Truck?

​I woke up today feeling rather like I had been hit by a truck: bruised and dazed. Yes, another headache day on Sunday. Man, did that suck. The pain is bad enough (believe me), and then there's the fear: how long will it last this time? (Oh, you were having dinner with a group of friends? Not today!) And what will it spoil next? (Other fun day plans? Apple Festival? Rhinebeck?)

Another thing I resent about the headaches is how they make me shrink from the sun. You know how I love the sun, how happy I am for a sunny day. Look how happy I was about Saturday! Turning into a vampire the very next day makes me extra crabby. And losing three days in less than a week, well, that's crabby beyond words, except maybe these: effing hormones.

I was at least able to go to work today, something that would not have been possible with Sunday's pain level. I would have loved to stay home, in fact, since I still wasn't feeling great, or even normal, but let's face it, I can't assess the need to stay home in a vacuum. If I don't absolutely have to stay home (which I didn't), and I missed a day and a half of work just last week (as I did), the answer is: go to work. I wasn't really in pain, just wobbly and generally feeling "off". And sorry for myself, if that doesn't go without saying. But, hey, I got through the whole day, got some work done, went to the chiropractor, went to stitch and bitch, showed off the blanket ... and now I'm home, and exhausted, and planning to get ready for bed. So it's only 8, so what? This kind of tired should have its own time zone.

Here's hoping for better tomorrow. Better for everyone!