Avoiding Writing

Fighting a migraine for two days now. It hasn’t got me, but the migraine aura has me by the neck. Feels like someone digging their fingers into the back of my head — not painful, but not pleasant. The visual migraine got me yesterday, which is always kind of interesting. It doesn’t hurt — I just lose my vision in one eye or the other for about fifteen minutes. I stopped picking up stitches at that point for a while.

I couldn’t sleep last night. It was probably all the caffeine I’d taken in pill form all day for the looming headache. Got up and read from about 1am to almost 6am. Finally fell asleep and dreamed that a huge cat, bigger than a man, dressed like a Viking, was living in the back of our house, controlling Clara, making her forge an IronMan-like suit by breathing fire. Poor old sweatshop Clara.

Okay. I’m going to try writing on the front porch. Hopefully Lala left me some coffee. If she didn’t, I’ll make a latte and work on the script for an hour or two. Then I will go to Target. We use a baby-gate to keep the animals out of the carpeted part of the house. Yesterday, while speeding on caffeine, I cleaned everything, washed everything, mopped the whole house. I took a flying leap, trying to jump over a still-wet part of the floor while simultaneously unlatching and opening the gate I was trying to jump through. Strangely enough, that wasn’t a good idea. As I fell, I made a conscious decision to take the gate out in my fall, rather than twisting and trying to save it. In breaking the gate, I saved my own ass. It’s rather sobering to splinter a nice wooden gate, though. That’s too much caffeine. That meant it was time to sit and knit.

Now. To the porch. Carefully.