Well, I don't feel morose, so that's a plus, I suppose. Tomorrow I will call the doctor and humble myself and apologize for asking her to change my medication last week and she'll get to say "I told you so" a million times and I'll beg her for the other stuff and she'll give it to me and then I'll be okey-dokey again.Or so I'd like to believe.
I just checked my lottery numbers for last night's mega millions drawing, and I had one. One is not enough, people! I need many. Let's all do better next time, shall we?
Aside from my various hormonal issues, I have finally realized with a giant "duh" and a V-8 type smack in the head that my week-and-a-half long headache is the way my body has decided to react allergically to springtime this year; it's not in my eyes, as it usually is, but in my sinuses. This is the two-week headache that my father got every year this time. Here's hoping that it won't go beyond two weeks, because, hormones or no, I'm going to have to start killing people soon. (Don't worry; I'll start with the SCM; he won't be missed much.)
The Chum was out today, so instead of driving around town after lunch so she could smoke a couple of cigs, I walked over to the football field and went around the track a couple of times. So yes, I actually took my walk today! I would do this every day, if I could, but it's already too hot for the Chum -- it was 85 today, and she doesn't care for the heat -- and anyway, she does all kinds of exercise and stuff with her husband on the weekends -- last weekend they mountain-biked 15 miles; he's 72, btw -- so she doesn't need to go walking with me. Which is really too bad, because she could smoke on the way to the field and back and then we could have a nice walk every day, but I guess it is not to be.
And the lead story in Today's Martyr News: the Hubs came home from work and made his dinner, and then got a phone call that a possible work-related trip is on for Friday. He's teaching tomorrow night, so he immediately said that he guesses he won't eat after all, since he has to pack. He was all ready to throw out his just-made food. But he thought better of it, or else he really does say this crap just for effect, because he ate and then said what the hell, he'll pack when he comes home tomorrow night. He packs in 30 seconds, so what was the big deal? It's just martyr stuff, that's all.
Okay, R and I are going out for Greek food, someone gave her a gift certificate to a place nearby. I'm off to have me some feta cheese.
