Why I look this way

Man. Between the hormonal migraines, the hormones etc... it's been a hell of a week so far, really.

I don't sleep at night, I just... die. And then, instead of waking up in the morning, I reluctantly rise from the grave, clods of dirt and little rocks falling from my clothing as I shamble, zombie-like to the shower, turn on the hot water and lean precariously against the wall, muttering and mumbling and trying to remember how to breathe.

It really didn't help that I had a migraine on Monday morning and had to take another dose of migraine medication around 11 pm Monday night, either.

I don't know what that stuff does to me,(except for actually working on the migraine pain) I really don't, but I feel sludgy and absent and unanchored and just... not right.

So I don't think as clearly as I'd like to.

Instead of packing my backpack on Tuesday, I just grabbed my purse. Which doesn't hold much, but I didn't think I'd need much for a four hour or five hour shift.
And of course, that little pocket in the middle of my backpack that zips securely shut and holds certain feminine products along with the all-important migraine medication was here at home with the rest of the backpack.

And of course, I needed that little pocket on Monday.
Oh, and I needed migraine meds, too. Although not in that order.

So I called Matt and had him bring me a migraine pill. Hell, if I'd waited another hour or so and found out I needed those other supplies, I woulda just called and told him to bring me my backpack. Which a coherent person probably would have thought of.

So let's see here.

Last week I had a sore throat and felt like shit but sounded fine.
This week, I feel fine and sound like shit.

Overall, I really like that better, but it's damned hard to catch a child's attention from across the gym in a hurry when one doesn't have a voice.
What voice I have is raspy and weak and I constantly have to clear my throat. It's driving me bugshit, but I have no one to complain to.

So we were on the playground on Tuesday afternoon. Elaine* asked me if she could draw my portrait. She's 10, I think. Possibly 9. And I said yes, and she proceeded to give me an art lesson. She explained how you divide the paper into quadrants when you're drawing a person's face, it makes it easier to get the proportions right. When I apologized for the 10th time for moving because I was still responsible for the other 26 kids out there on the playground, she said that it wasn't necessary for me to hold still, that she was pretty good at drawing people even when they move around a lot.

I dunno. I think she caught me as I really am.