There are days when it doesn't pay to get out of bed. This was one of those days. The dogs woke me at 8am, even though I had explained the night before that as the alpha bitch of the pack, I am entitled to sleep in on saturdays until at least 9. But no. They did not listen. Head throbbing I staggered out of bed, wrapped up in my nappy polar fleece bathrobe, and stumbled to the back door to let them out. Then I lay back down for a few minutes until they all came, boisterously, back into the house. I managed to get back out of bed just long enough to close the back door, use the bathroom, and then my pounding skull made the decision for me: back to bed. I even opted to shut the dogs out of the room, an unprecedented move, in order sleep until my head was cooperating.
Nearly 2 hours later, my head still throbbing, I realized that sleep was not going to cure this particularly pervasive and insistent headache. Time for drugs and caffiene. Naproxin sodium and fresh coffee should do the trick. Should. Didn't. So maybe a healthy breakfast. I start cooking some oatmeal in milk and water. Halfway through the cooking I realize the milk is curdling and rising to the top. I sniff the newly purchased gallon, it smells... off. Not sour, not rotten, just "off." Fuck. I decide to forge ahead, let the oats keep cooking. Turns out they don't taste bad once all the good shit is added. But so much for the brand new gallon of milk, and now I am milk-less for the weekend unless I make another, unwanted, trip to the store.
And so my day goes. Head harassing me, I try to start projects, but I can't make my brain stay on track. I finally give up trying and hope that a nap may help. 2 hours later, well rested, but head still pounding I get back up. More coffee, more drugs: aspirin, acetominophin, naproxin sodium. Maybe a healthy meal? Nope.
I go online, I need silk and silk paint for banners. I make my selections, get all the way up to the last click of the mouse and I hesitate, remembering that I'm kinda broke. I check the bank account, if I buy the silk I won't have enough to pay my phone bill. Damn. I escape out of the shopping cart without finalizing the sale. My head is still pounding, and now the tension across my shouilders threatens to peel my scalp off of my skull.
Okay, time to go a little natural: feverfew and tea. Head still pounding but now my stomach is churning. Time for Pepto. I really want a glass of milk, but the milk is "off." Damn.
I decide that maybe fresh air is the way to go. So out into the woods with the dogs. The cool, humid air does smell good, and the excercise does make my body feel a little better. Until I slip in the mud and without thinking grab the barbed wire fence next to me. The puncture wound in my finger leaves a dripping trail of blood that a city slicker could have followed. The blood flows freely, no doubt aided by my intake of blood thinning pain relievers. Oh well, what's a little more blood loss after the worst menstrual cycle ever as well as my regular Red Cross donation. Blood, who needs it?
Back to the house, feeling a little better. Stomach still churning, I throw up a little in the back of my throat. I really need a glass of milk. Fine, dammit. Load the dogs into the van, head to the store. I want one of those headache patches too. Standing in the pain reliever aisle, scouring the shelves for the patch I know has to be there when the clueless couple parks their cart between me and my objective. Can't they see that I am standing there, looking directly at the shelves they have now effectively blocked, while they idiotically discuss cold medications. Damn. I give up. I wasn't finding the damn patch anyway. Milk. That's all I came for. I do grab the cheapest bottle of ibuprofin, I haven't put that into my system yet.
So now, I have put almost every over the counter product I can think of into my system, my head is feeling a little better, but my stomach feels delicate. And the caffiene and naps have me wide awake at nearly midnight. I do need to get some sleep, in the hopes that my head may allow me to get shit done tomorrow. I don't have a lot of spare time, and to waste it feeling like a simpering whinebag just pisses me off.
Enough of the Pity Party. Time to try for some sleep in anticipation of a productive day tomorrow.