A Cure for the Common Migraine
I’ve been plagued by an on-again/off-again migraine since Wednesday. No amount of rest (afternoon naps and going to bed at 9:00 PM), Excedrin, or endless moaning to B seemed to get rid of it. Thankfully, the migraines I get are not kind where one has to go lie in a completely dark and silent room until it passes. Mine just sap all my energy and make me truculent and intolerant.
Today, I got fed up with letting the thing dictate my every move and figured I’d just go out and plant my rather desperate-looking delphiniums, do some weeding, and start nibbling away at the neighbor’s mountain of mulch--as long as I was destined to feel like crap anyway. I was just so sick and tired of being sick and tired. So out I went into the rain. I didn’t even bother with raingear.
After about 20 minutes of weeding and surveying my domain, I realized that the headache was nearly gone. Mind over matter? Fresh air? Raindrops falling on my bare head? I don’t know what did the trick, but what a relief to feel pretty much restored to my normal self after two whole weeks of torpor.
My neighbor--who had been hard-coreishly gardening in the rain all morning--saw me and trotted over to renew her plea that I cart off some of her mulch. I started to feel oddly gung-ho about the idea of hauling perhaps ten loads of mulch across the street and smothering all those pesky weeds. As I was shoveling the stuff into my barrow, my neighbor’s boyfriend appeared out of nowhere and asked, “Where’s your hat, Young Lady?” I love how he phrased that, since I’m a good seven or eight years older than he is. Also, I must tell you that what with the flu, the headache, a diminished appetite that hollowed out my cheeks, etc., I have not been looking my best over the past couple of weeks. I must be looking less ancient and wraith-like, or he would have said, "Where's your hat, Not So Very Young Lady?," right?
B and I are now off to see a pizza-and-beer movie at the Laurelhurst (I need to work on plumping up myass face). A slice of pizza and a movie sound inordinately appealing after two weeks of being almost totally housebound. I may even have a beer!
Today, I got fed up with letting the thing dictate my every move and figured I’d just go out and plant my rather desperate-looking delphiniums, do some weeding, and start nibbling away at the neighbor’s mountain of mulch--as long as I was destined to feel like crap anyway. I was just so sick and tired of being sick and tired. So out I went into the rain. I didn’t even bother with raingear.
After about 20 minutes of weeding and surveying my domain, I realized that the headache was nearly gone. Mind over matter? Fresh air? Raindrops falling on my bare head? I don’t know what did the trick, but what a relief to feel pretty much restored to my normal self after two whole weeks of torpor.
My neighbor--who had been hard-coreishly gardening in the rain all morning--saw me and trotted over to renew her plea that I cart off some of her mulch. I started to feel oddly gung-ho about the idea of hauling perhaps ten loads of mulch across the street and smothering all those pesky weeds. As I was shoveling the stuff into my barrow, my neighbor’s boyfriend appeared out of nowhere and asked, “Where’s your hat, Young Lady?” I love how he phrased that, since I’m a good seven or eight years older than he is. Also, I must tell you that what with the flu, the headache, a diminished appetite that hollowed out my cheeks, etc., I have not been looking my best over the past couple of weeks. I must be looking less ancient and wraith-like, or he would have said, "Where's your hat, Not So Very Young Lady?," right?
B and I are now off to see a pizza-and-beer movie at the Laurelhurst (I need to work on plumping up my
posted by Rozanne at 8:56 PM
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