I have a very rare migraine brewing. It started last week before our day running away from all responsibility at the water park and rushing through Costco at the breakneck speed of light twenty minutes before they closed. It started before my discovery that some random person had ransacked my old car looking for money, dumping out the contents of the glove box and center panel only to find an expired bottle of tylenol and four old hospital bracelets. It started well before the almost unbearable din of the mid-August cicadas here in the Piedmont.
I am still laughing over the fact that someone searched my car for money because my old lady sedan does not scream 'Mega-bucks and drugs!'. It more looks like 'I keep a quarter to use at Aldi for a shopping cart in the cup holder' - which, coincidentally is the only thing missing from the entire car. I wish they would have emptied the trash at the same time.
August is usually a very sucky month for my health. The mid and late August weather always creates a week or so of very low oxygen levels, usually just as my pulmonologist is on vacation and unreachable, where I lay down a lot, take extra meds and trudge on through till the weather starts to cool off slightly.
Usually it does not bring a every few years migraine. This year it is. I've been eating tylenol on top of my usual cocktail of drugs like I am in a grudge match with my liver. It's not working.
By last night I was getting more pissed off with this headache, knowing it will eventually reach the point where I will need to take the imitrex and sleep it off in a perfectly silent dark cold room. It's getting close.
In the last few days I've been dealing with the huge overwhelming amount of zucchini that the garden is producing by cooking a large batch every few days. At least those I'm not canning for zucchini relish or baking zucchini bread, cookies, you-name it with. I was counting on not having to cook last night because I've cooked up a huge batch of seasoned and delicious zucchini, a big salad and a number of chicken breasts.
Get up to start dinner, headache like a nagging toothache and discover that Jim has gorged himself on that huge container of cooked zucchini. 'Is that a problem?' he asked me, mystified as to why I would be miffed. Damn straight skippy when I'm fighting this headache. I grumbled, I complained but I served him the remainder of the zucchini and then proceeded to make for myself and myself alone a batch of the most mouth-watering creamed spinach, brave with onions, garlic and the good cheese. I ate it all for dinner while he just stared. Revenge spinach.
Usually I'm not this petty, but this is just one of those triggering things, when someone cannot understand that they shouldn't inhale all of one large amount of foodstuffs because perhaps someone else might have wanted a few. I've dealt with this with my son when he was a teenager many times. Make enough of something for two meals, come back and it's all gone with the things you have in there for them to snack on completely untouched.
After all the fuming and spinach cooking I finally just gave up and took a small dose of imitrex and went to bed. When I'm sick with low oxygen levels and headaches I get crazy, as the above illustrates amply. Still have the headache today but I'm about to kill it with more imitrex and get in the bed.