On Thursday, I went to work like a normal person, and got m'roots done after.
That was the last time I was living like regular folk.
I woke up in the middle of the night with a raging migraine, and the worst part was I'd called the doctor and the pharmacy Thursday because all I had left was half a pill. They only give you 9 at a time, and you have one bad spell and you run out fast. Anyway, the pharmacy never refilled my prescription and now I was stuck with half a pill to get by on.
Friday morning was the worst. I called into work, said I'd try to be in by noon, and at noon I was no better. In fact I was awful. Ned called from Kansas and as soon as I answered the phone he knew it was bad. "I have no medicine left, and I have to wait for the doctor to refill it," I moaned.
You know Ned is good in a crisis. In fact, I'd say he sort of thrives on being there in a crisis. He's friends with a lot of woman. Enough said. And there he was, miles away, unable to help. It was kind of his worst nightmare. "Let me call the pharmacy and see what I can do," he said. "Let me get my brother to go get the pills for you, and drive them to you," he said, while he was supposed to be presidenting in Kansas.
I'd have died a trillion deaths if his brother had done that. So finally I called the pharmacy again. "Oh, those were ready yesterday! You should have automatically gotten a call!"
.....
So I pulled on pants and a trench coat and schlepped my attractive self to the pharmacy. Oh, I felt bad. Every inch I moved in the car made me nauseated-er than the inch before.
Then of course when I actually took the medication, it was too late. The meds weren't gonna touch that migraine. I had to wait for it to end on its own.
And that is why I've had migraines on and off all weekend. I'll go a few hours feeling well, and then my head will rear its head again. I was supposed to go to a dinner party at a coworker's house last night but I had to cancel. I hate being unreliable that way.
Finally yesterday afternoon in my few good hours, I dragged myself out of the house and went downtown. I went down to my friend Kit's store, and ended up getting a 1970's sweater. Wait. I have it on now. Lemme show you it.
Do I look like one of Charlie's Angels, if Charlie's Angels had been slightly chubby?
"Slightly."
Also I got sparkly earrings there. Let me show you it.
I realize I look dreadful. Almost like I've been sick for three days or something. I also went to the bookstore, and to the new Mediterranean restaurant and got myself some rice. Livin' la vida migraine.
Anyway, now Ned is finally back and ready to be attentive. Now it's too late, as I am generally on the mend. Look at my back door, which is not a euphemism. Good lord that door is in rotten shape. I'd like to photograph for you all the things I'd like to fix in this house. That door is one of them. That will be a whole 'nother blog post.
Oh, and also too, I still don't know how we're going to celebrate my 10-year anniversary of blogging, which will be December 15. What should we do that's fun?
And also also too, it's that time of year again for the good deed exchange. I know in the past it turns into a bit of a cluster, us pairing up. Does anyone organized have any suggestions for how to do this in a dignified way this year, instead of 8 people accidentally being paired up with Juice?
Juice doesn't even read this blog anymore, does she? But you know what I mean.
Maybe that's what we should do. Oh my god! We can do a "Where are they now" of people who went off in a huff, or got bored with me, or just wandered off. We can find J, who used to leave hilarious comments, and Furry Godmother, and Matze, and Deb's husband Peter. Wouldn't that be kind of fun?
Anyway, let me know your thoughts, while I try to gather mine. I know I was not funny today, as opposed to any other days, but my head is almost literally cotton. There's no cog in my native.
Maybe I'll finally shower. Ned's at physical therapy for his bulge, but he's coming over after. He already saw me today--brought me the New York Times wedding section. I like to read the wedding stories and hate everyone.
"This guy describes his new wife as a self-starter, with a great work ethic and a big heart. Is that how you describe me to your friends?" I asked Ned.
Ned never looked up from reading the noncommittal section of the paper.
"No," he said, turning his page.
There I go. Turn the page.
XO,
June's head
