Tag Archive | Headache

Sigh. Ugh. Argh.



I seem to have taken ill, or lazy, or moody; they feel surprisingly similar at times. I am a miserable beast, my current disposition is slightly less than amicable and considerably less than favorable. I’ve done my best to mask the monster for nearly a week now in hopes no one would notice, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult to contain.

Of course, I am prone to the dramatic when I feel like this, things are never as bad as I ultimately make them out to be . . . but they are. This is more than simple 6 AM melodrama because I am annoyed at being awake. This is, I have a headache, my body feels like it’s run a marathon from a simple day of housework, no one has bothered to pick up dog poo for a week, found the handle of my eighth favorite coffee cup on the floor, it’s so hot here I can’t properly breathe and I look like I work in sweat lodge, bills are due, and I forgot the important stuff at the grocery store, kind of turmoil..

Legitimate reasons to brood, no? I’ve not sat down to write anything of substance or value in quite some time, this particular grouping of words cannot be counted as proper writing since it is basically nothing more than a mini whine session to convince myself I am justified in my misery, not that I truly need justification. My complaints are just.

I’m mostly laying the blame for my ghastly circumstances on the heat, I grew up in Alaska, it’s not in my genetic makeup to survive and thrive in the September heat here in Western armpit of the United States. I’ve had eighteen years to acclimate to the seemingly volcanic temperatures my fellow citizens seem to adore, it’s not going to happen.

Sigh. Ugh. Argh.

Crystal R. Cook

Blink if you weren’t already well aware *Yawn

People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint – it’s more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly . . . time-y wimey . . . stuff.

Wonderfully, wisely aimagend wittily explained by 10. If you don’t readily know the reference I reluctantly forgive you. This time. Well, sort of, but not really. Go ahead and blink.

It’s 4:30. In the morning. What I was fairly certain was still today became yesterday when I looked at the clock after several hours of tossing and turning in an unsuccessful bid for sweet and solid sleep, and an inconvenient midnight need to cleanse my bathroom due to an unexpected, albeit minor, invasion of ants. Ants are assholes, in case you weren’t already well aware.

So tomorrow is now and I’ve not slept since the day before and my current state of mind is ever so slightly, just a bit, wibbly wobbly. More so than my norm. What I wouldn’t give for a police box in Tardis blue to take me back the moment I forgot to take that blasted little lullaby in a bottle of a pill that helps me fall asleep.

My internal clock decided quite some time ago to tender its resignation, leaving me very much awake and on my own, no es bueno for me. My body went on strike, vowing to stay awake until its demand for the missing ticking be met, and since my turncoat timepiece abandoned me, I had no choice but to seek pharmaceutical relief. Internal clocks are assholes, in case you weren’t already well aware.

The sun will soon be up and I will be a shell of a person sipping my coffee like a zombie with a throbbing headache I can already feel drumming . . . Can’t you hear it? Inside my head. I thought it would stop. But it never does. It never, ever stops. Inside my head. The drumming, the constant drumming.

Oh, where is a doctor when you need one. Again, quasi forgiveness if you’ve no idea what I am blathering on about. Today is Saturday, I just remembered I do in fact have an appointment to imagesee The Doctor. New guy, only one visit so far, we’ll see how good he is. Capaldi, don’t fail me. I know you can’t hear me, but you should have kept the facial hair. I blame Moffet of course.

I swear I keep feeling ants. I may as well get that coffee brewing, it is going to be a long, long day and I cannot stop yawning. Yawns are assholes, in case you weren’t already well aware.

Crystal R. Cook




Woe is me.

imageI have a headache. It sucks. It bites. It’s not cool. It’s just not right. It’s lame. It’s a bummer. It’s a downer. It’s for the birds. It’s the pits. It’s whacked. It’s pathetic. It’s not even funny. It’s super crappy. It’s not fair.

Maybe it isn’t a headache, maybe it’s a tumor. Judging by the above I’d say it just may be. Maybe I have finally lost too many brain cells or maybe I am actually going to have that nervous breakdown I’ve been threatening my husband with.

Nah, I don’t have time for a nervous breakdown. I don’t even have time for this headache. Sitting here at the computer reading and writing isn’t helping I’m sure, but neither will doing the laundry or going grocery shopping.

At least the house trolls are still asleep.

Well, that’s all. I didn’t really have anything to say. Just thought I’d moan and groan a little and see if anyone would feel sorry for me.

I’m off to raid the medicine cabinet for some Advil and find an ice pack.