On migraines and The Male. in The Big, Blue House, year one.

Migraines with nausea are the best thing ever. I recommend them to everyone. Particularly when they’re caused and accompanied by unexpected hormonal fluctuations that also cause arthritis-like swollen joint pain, and other inconvenient biological processes. (Poor attempt at sarcasm.)

Don is being nice. Too nice. Looking back through our disagreements for the past two months, we haven’t had anything that I would classify as more than a “tiff”, and frankly, while it’s nice, it’s also very concerning.

Looking for causes for this change, what has changed in his life that might make him reevaluate his behavior? Well he’s older, obviously. Our location has changed, we’re in this house now. - That’s all I can see.

I’ve asked him several times if he feels alright, to the point that he’s becoming annoyed with the question. He insists that yes, he would tell me, and go to a hospital if he were in any pain.

I remember from a college psychology class that people sometimes change when they see their own mortality getting closer. So hope with me, internet peeps, that that’s all it is.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Several days ago he said something that hurt my feelings. My foggy, hormonally affected brain fails to recall what, but I said so. Then I got some cocoa, and I was leaning against the counter with it, as I do, *and he came in, got within an inch of my face, and said "I'm sorry"* .

THIS IS BRAND NEW BEHAVIOR. In twenty-six years, he has never voluntarily apologized for anything. I can say, “I’m sorry for insert whatever here. Now you.”, and he’ll say “sorry”. But THAT is IT.

Two days later was the last 70+ degree day of the year, looking at the weather, and I woke him to go patch the garage roof, like he’d said he would. An hour and a half before sunset I got worried, and told him he only had an hour and a half. He yelled “Leave me alone!”. - In years past, that would be followed up with him huffing and ignoring me for two days, while I did whatever he had previously said he would do. So I made my lunch, and went upstairs to look at the weather and pick a time to go do it myself, while he would be asleep. *And while I was up there eating, he pulled out the ladder, and patched the roof.*

I was gobsmacked. (I am saddened that Google autocorrect doesn’t think that’s a word.)

I watched him work a while, from my view in the attic. The cats watched too. Probably wondering why they never get to climb around on the roof.

This is a weird juxtaposition of hope and fear, and I don’t like it.

. ｡༓･*˚⁺‧͙｡⋆｡˚☽☾˚｡⋆.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑