tamaranth | Life So Unfair (#212 in an Ongoing Series)

Today was the first day I'd had to myself for weeks, possibly months. I wanted to catch up with freelance stuff, BSFA stuff, hopefully even me-stuff.

So instead I've spent it enduring migraine.

I didn't catch it with Magical Pink Pills because at first I thought it was a rather disproportionate hangover -- having daringly had a couple of glasses of wine last night, waiting after the first to see if there were any allergy-symptoms. I wasn't stricken with nausea or red blotches at any point.

But it may have triggered the migraine (though this is certainly not a reliable trigger), which is being a real bastard and not responding to any of the medication.

I can't read, or listen to music, or even think: trying to follow a train of thought makes my brain feel as though it's being minced. And it hurts. And I'm feeling very low indeed at the thought of fitting everything into spare moments in the week, and at being the victim of this Thing for the foreseeable future.

Anyone who is expecting anything from me (email, IM, web page updates, good cheer) right now, please note it will be delayed.