A trained professional would say the migraine I developed yesterday morning at work around 9:45 that got progressively worse until I found myself in the upstairs off lying on the floor and begging for a bullet, to the ill-conceived decision to drive myself the 8 mile, pot hole filled route home where I barely managed to make it to the bathroom before losing everything in my system but the kitchen sink a sign.
A sign that I'm too old to stay up 'til 1 in the morning on back to back nights during the work week, especially a work week when it's my job to get Ciera and her cousin to Middle School on time. A sign that maybe I'm not cut out for a 6 pack of Mt. Dew before 11 am. Proof that the gray hair in my hair and beard isn't just pre-mature gray but that I am, in fact, old.
Balderdash. Yes, it was hands down the worst headache I've ever had, finally tapering off around midnight while I lay in the bed thanking God that at least I didn't feel like laying down on the highway and letting an 18 wheeler make it feel better. I did manage to keep the tv on in the background where I watched the Dodgers sweep the Cardinals and listened to 3 hours of The Departed on ION tv, which was about 78 kinds of funny; you've never heard the word "fricking" used so much in your life.
After 8 hours of "sleep 15, wake up for 10, fall back asleep" I managed to grab a shower, eat a granola bar in about 30 minutes, sip some Gatorade and miraculously not throw any of it back up. The headache has reduced itself to a small throb and I can look at the tv for about a minute before my eyes hurt. Hey, it's progress.
So I sit here and wait for 12 o'clock. Due or die time at Fenway with Buchholz on the hill and it's win or go home. Good thing is it's not like they haven't been here before, and if they win you may just here the hollering from NC, migraine be damned.
If they don't? I'll be disappointed but I won't tear my clothes and wear ashes on my head for a month. My team made the playoffs again, I made it back to Boston and Fenway and my friends, and after another 6 months my kids still love me and my wife didn't leave me.
So in the end, no matter what, I win.
Surrender the Farmhouse Sink
1 week ago