Yesterday, I woke up with a headache. Took some Aleve and went back to sleep. Woke up again at 8:30 (when I have to leave for work), decided my headache had taken a detour for Migraine City and called in sick for work.
Five minutes later I texted Denise: “Home w/ migraine. Tell me it’s OK to call in sick for that”
“Absolutely!” she replied 90 seconds later. She is a good and loyal friend. Next, I took half of an Ambien.
I hate calling in sick for work because inevitably I have to go back to work and I don’t wanna!
I slept again until noonish, when I theoretically felt up to heating up leftover beef stew for lunch for the humans. By 2 PM, I was asleep again. I think I took a full Ambien this time. Around 4, Gene stuck his head in our bedroom and asked if I’d be up to going to dinner at 6 at Our Favorite Local Restaurant.
“Sure!” I replied, even though I think I was hoping for sushi and my “Sure!” was kind of a “Yeahh, football!” in A Christmas Story type of “Sure”. Regardless, I woke up again at, oh, 5:45 to dress for dinner. I think I ate appetizers for dinner and ended up home with cake for dessert.
(Moral of the story: Stay home).
Oh, and at some point in the day I called in a refill for more Ambien. Yay.
Today!!!! TOOOOOODAAAAAY I woke up with a sore back. Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.
So now today’s been a heating pad, Aleve, walking around the Outlet Mall (we had to get tickets for the Best Picture Showcase* and also a new pillow for me **) kind of day. Yes, I totally should have put off traipsing around the mall until…tomorrow. Or never. But I’m a woman, and a particularly stupid kind of woman who refuses to just say eff it and hole up with the laptop and Netflix episodes of Greys Anatomy.