I had a migraine on Sunday.
It was a doozy, with the pain, and the sensitivity to light, and the nausea. I wore my sunglasses all day and made the children the world's strangest macaroni and cheese (it was from scratch and ridiculously thick, but I could not think my way to adding more milk to thin the sauce)
But as bad as the migraine itself was, today I have the pleasure of a migraine hangover, and that is infinitely worse.
My brain misfired all day long, and bad stuff went down.
I began the day by sitting on the couch beside my knitting. Only I misjudged the distance and sat a little bit on my knitting. To be precise I sat on my knitting needle.
It did not survive the encounter.
And while I can't blame this on my migraine I did have to face the sad reality that I do not have enough yarn to finish my tweedy sweater. I started with 10 balls of yarn. I am down to my last half a ball.
I need this to measure 17 inches. I don't think I'm going to squeeze three more inches of knitting out of that final half a ball, not to mention the eight additional rows of ribbing. Especially since I only got ten rows out of the first half of that ball. I don't have the mental brain power to deal with such devastation.
I took a shower and I'm pretty sure I didn't actually wash my hair. I just conditioned it twice.
I dropped things. I tripped over things. I needed a hair stick for my hair but feared if I entered the bedroom to fetch one I would fall into the 12 foot Christmas tree that is still in our room, and wake The Greatest, who was sleeping in anticipation of his shift tonight, so I put a pencil in my hair.
Which was really unnecessary since there is a box full of hair sticks for the etsy shop on top of the fridge. But I couldn't choose between all the pretty new ones. So I stuck a broken pencil in my hair and went out in public. It seemed like the reasonable solution at the time.
I took The Queen Bean to her physical therapy. I stopped for a soda on the way there, hoping caffeine would fix my addled brain. As I pulled out of my parking space I almost backed into a semi. I swear it wasn't there before. How did I miss something so big? I probably should not have been behind the wheel of a car. We survived the perilous journey to physical therapy and back, but my conversation with the therapist was very random and disjointed. She probably thinks I'm on drugs. And I don't blame her. When we got home The Queen was sleeping so I sat in the garage until she woke. When it was time for The Greatest to go to work we looked high and low for the car keys only to discover them still in the ignition. Thank goodness I closed the garage door.
I stumbled through the rest of today, feeding the children cereal for dinner. I do not trust myself with the stove. Here's hoping my brain is working once more tomorrow.
On the bright side I got the pictures from The Queen's Cake Smash photo session last week.
Is she not the cutest thing ever!
More Pictures tomorrow.