zephyrofgod

I love having sick days.

Not.

I took the day off work due to throwing up. I'm blaming the three cluster and/or migraine headaches this weekend alone and the synapses going crazy. I did not eat any of my triggers, so it's got to be hormonal. You know it's bad when in the middle of game night, I ask for a blanket to put over my head and I end up babbling incoherently until I go to sleep fifteen minutes later.

So, yes, I wasn't at work today, and I will more than likely get kvetched at (again, not my fault. My body does stupid stuff like this all the time). Blech.

I cut six and a half inches of hair off. I'm still getting used to it. I have yet to take photos, but I probably will soon.

I met my friend Shaun's friends: Matt and Steve. Matt plays in the SCA. In fact,

purplellamaboi, you know him. He's Modar's newest protégé. For the life of me, I can't remember his SCA name. I blame the migraines. Steve is the flight instructor, and he and I had a good fourty-five minute conversation about altimeters (which I think are spiffy). If I go permanently barmy, I might consider flying lessons. I'm only halfway barmy. We've got some time to go.

I'm going to bed. I'm exhausted, I still feel horrid, and I do need to go to work, or else, well, more kvetching will ensue. I'm trying to avoid that.