Couch Party

Earlier today I gave myself my ketorolac tromethamine shot, walked the dog, and fell asleep on the couch before I took off my coat. When I woke up from the nap, I still had the headache. I went to the Walgreens drive-thru and forced myself through a quick shopping trip at my little local grocery store. I needed rice milk but there was no way I could deal with Dominicks (now owned by Safeway), so I still have no rice milk. It is amazing what I can do, when necessary, with migraine. It's also amazing how hard some things can be. The mess builds and builds, and at this point I'm still assuming I'll feel better in another day or so, and then I can clear away the rubble. Now, the logic and organization receptors are frustratingly haywire and as long as I'm not back in permanent status migraine mode, it's not worth trying to think in the way that hurts most.

When I came home from my errands, my dog was in my nap spot on the couch. I've since reclaimed the space, forcing him to build himself a little fort out of the cushions. First he had to "dig" the cushions, then my sofa's slip cover provided him a more fruitful excavation. We stayed through sunset, watching Hulu. I ate half a papaya, three bananas, and a generously buttered sweet potato. I knit. I finished the entire season of Lie to Me and a good bit of the scarf I'm knitting. My dog farted a lot.

At least I don't feel bitter or ashamed of my day. Maybe the pain is too wide to fit my standard self-doubt, but I feel like I got today "right." I pushed on the things that required pushing and let go everywhere else. Aural Girl and Possible Boy are wonderful and amazing when I'm migrainey. They say nice things and mean them and care and are concerned in a way that isn't more about themselves (cough, my mother, cough cough). They went to see the NBA game in Milwaukee, and I just got a text from Possible Boy that says "having a blast, wish you were here with us!" and at this particular moment I am very glad I am not with them because they are somewhere with noise and motion and people and things that would make me curl up into a little ball and cry. People confined to wheelchairs don't generally get to climb through ancient ruins or Escher lithographs; I may not be able to plan attendance at indoor sporting events, concerts, or the entire city of Las Vegas. I'm so used to having it all, it's not a bad life to have it most.

Store(age)

I've been feeling so much better. I think it's the stupid diet. Taking out milk was the real kicker. Today I'm eating tons of eggs to see if it's milk AND eggs. Eggs eggs eggs (in addition to other food, too) over the next few days and we'll see what happens.

I'm already legitimately exhausted from a morning of two estate sales (one sucked, one was an $11.50 goldmine) and one antique store (they didn't want to buy what I had, but I know what that particular store sells now).

Then I went to the grocery store and demonstrated to myself that I'm not all hunky-dory regular person.

I signed up for my own Fresh Values Card. I've been using my mother's forever and keep forgetting to sign myself up so I can reap the occasional benefits. Today, I had time and remembered. But as I filled out the form, my hands were shaking. They do that, sometimes worse than others. They have since high school. As I wrote my name, the shaking was bad enough that you could barely read the first letters and it wasn't the fault of my crummy to begin with handwriting. I don't think I've ever been that shaky before, or at least not when I've done something noticeable.

I contemplated the 20 cent difference between regular and organic limes (organic won) and the $3 difference between regular and organic eggs (regular) and went up and down almost every aisle so I wouldn't forget anything. I didn't trust myself to remember or make decisions without going through the logic very consciously. Pondering the expense of my favorite gluten-free but over-priced cereals, a man I knew I recognized said "Hello!"

I drew a total blank. Did I know him from high school? Familiar, but no clue.

He was the groom at the wedding when I was the makeshift photographer. He had to remind me. I stared at this man through a camera for countless hours, and then again on my computer as I cropped and adjusted picture after picture. Then we met up again to upload everything onto their USB drive. None of that stuck in my head. It's all part of the blurry squish of the past two years. He was totally nice and friendly about it and we talked for a few minutes before I was back to judging milk substitutes.

But AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH! I know it's not my fault. It just frustrates the hell out of me when I go into my brain to find something and it's not where it's supposed to be. Memories used to go in and stay in. Now, it's more like trying to lodge pencils in a classroom ceiling or juggling one more item than you comfortably can handle while wearing baseball gloves. It's that much more frustrating because you can do some of it or a version of it, but under current circumstances, there will be misses. I get fussy when I miss. Fuss fuss fuss.

I want to go crash so maybe I'll feel good tonight and go out. Possible Boy makes me smile. I don't know what's going on, but he's swell and I'll keep being dopey on his behalf for the time being.