Three. Day. Migraine.
Yes, that's right. I had a three-day migraine, and now I can't find my weekend. Totally lost it under a mountain of pain and pain-killer induced sleep.
I've had migraines that lasted longer than this before (I believe I lost highscool this way--a non-metaphorical three-year migraine), but I'm not used to them anymore. When I was a teenager, and could easily go for a week without a break in the migraine pain, they didn't bother me so much. It became the norm to have a migraine with no end in sight. Now, I have maybe one, two a month at most. I can go a couple of months without a migraine, and usually they last for a few hours and the painkillers that I take stop them. So when an unstoppable weekend-ruiner happens (twice a year?), I get kinda depressed.
I keep expecting it to end. It doesn't. I keep expecting the pain to stop so I can get shit done. It doesn't, and I don't. I keep expecting the pain to stop long enough that I can read a freaking book or enjoy lunch with my husband. Not a chance.
So, my nice plan for finishing my grading and research in a orderly fashion this week? Shot all to hell. I will be scrambling to get everything done this week because I lost three days. Yes, people will be sympathetic, but that doesn't change the deadlines. I thought I was going to finally be ahead in my grading. Sigh. At least there's a holiday next week. I can use that to try and catch-up.
Oh, and my head still hurts. I just can't sleep anymore.
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