Yesterday I waxed poetic about the fact that I am finally on something of a schedule and the fates heard me and went “Oh, look! Girlfriend is getting smug... snap! No routine for you!”
So, The Girl is home sick today. She has what I am certain is her first migraine headache (hormones are a bitch. Oh, and, genetics; genetics are also a bitch) based on her description of both the pain and the “weird, squiggly things” she saw just prior to her head feeling like it was being split in two by the Jaws of Life.
All of which can mean only one thing; Aunt Flo’s inaugural visit will be sooner rather than later. This, by the way, is a fact that caused Hugh to turn several interesting shades of green when I mentioned it to him, earlier (which amused me greatly).
Poor baby (The Girl, not Hugh. As I just said, his discomfort amuses me), I really hoped she would dodge the migraine bullet but, with such a strong history of the headaches in my family, her chances were never very good and the best that I can hope for now is to get her into the doctor for a prescription that will work (I tried several different drugs unsuccessfully before hitting on Imitrex which works like magic for me).
I just hope she does not also inherit my other PMS symptoms; I do not think our grocery budget could stand another chocoholic carb addict in the family.