Sorry for the late joke this morning. I have an excuse.
All of that frowning over the weekend led to a migraine. I was in bed by one in the afternoon yesterday, waking only for the occasional Migraleve and a bowl of soup from my beloved husband. Not from him, you understand: he’s not some sort of walking chicken soup dispenser, à la hen-cow hybrid (saying cluck-moo, or coo for short. Or muck*). He poured it from a can and warmed it in the microwave; but I appreciated the love with which he did it.
*Give me a break; I have a sore head.
I couldn’t face the computer long enough to schedule a joke. If I can’t face the computer, you know I’m sick. I couldn’t even face Downton Abbey. The thought of Maltesers made me queasy. Now do you believe me?
I wanted to try Big Al’s cure – take the tablets, then a shower, with the water spraying the face – but I couldn’t lift my head long enough to find the bathroom. Sorry, Al. Next time, maybe.
This morning, the head is still aching, but functional. Normal service will hopefully be resumed tomorrow.
I promise I’ll be in a good mood. The headache says I’d better be, or else.
Re: Viv’s non-appearance to herself in the community board to the right.
I’ve got nothing. But I see you every day.
I’ve just checked: you’re not there. I’m going back to bed.