Workless

The weekend has been eaten away by the same cruel little nanobots which have been eating away at my brain.  As recently as Monday, it was eighty degrees and humid.  This weekend we've gone to overnight lows in the forties.  Friday night in particular was lovely - nice and cold, and I'd never even turned on the heat, so sleep was wonderful.  I love snuggling down under lots of nice warm blankets.  Mmm.

It's been a pleasure, too, to get into sleeves again.  Working out my pashmina collection, wearing sweaters - just breaking out different clothes, after months of wearing my summer adorables.  Seasons are so fashion-helpful.

Unfortunately, when a change in climate happens quite so quickly (low to high pressure is the worst - making some of the first beautiful days in spring pretty painful), the pressure in the sky echoes - and THROBS - in parallel with the pressure in the skull.

To which every single reader in the region is saying "duh" right now - but, of course, headache-having happens to be one of those areas in which my family (my brother and I, particularly) excel.  It sucks.

So yesterday's tally of six ibuprofen, two acetaminophen, and an aspirin (plus many hours of sleep) had precisely no effect.

The headache had the effect of keeping me from feeling like doing anything of use all day.  I didn't clean house, and I didn't work on the revisions.  

So today and this week, the revisions have to be bumped up, on the list of priorities.  Today doesn't have a lot to hold - so far, there's already been a final abortive attempt to insert those d*mned contacts, and what remains includes only a trip to the grocery and the drugstore - so there should be little excuse not to get to work.  I have some great feedback from the MP from JRW (yay again, for his impending success ...), and the existing manuscript is in good hands, and so my job today should start with my opening setpiece.

Boy, though, I still wish the throbbing had gone away, rather than just subsiding.