So, fun weekend...no, not really. in Dancing on a Blade (September 2019)

So my weekend plans were to drive on I-5 and research some expensive shoes that are supposed to fix how I walk. Didn’t happen.

Friday night, standing in line at Win-Co with Kitten, and I start to sweat and shiver. That’s the bad sign. I got major double vision and I paid and left the kids (Fourthchild came too) to bag up and drag it all to the door while I lurched to the bench and tried not to puke on my shoes. Double vision cleared. Started smelling burning celery. (Well, not quite, but that’s as close as my nose gets.)

I have to go home. Right then. So I did. Drove white-knuckled back from Frederickson, came in, dropped trou all over the place, handed the kid the trunk keys, and went to bed. It’s Headache Time, Bitch. Sometimes, when my cycle sucks, I get one. Turns out they’re migraines. Anyway. So I sleep through that wave, and wake up dizzy AF. Ask to go to the ER, because dizzy ain’t right and I can’t even walk to the bathroom without terrifying the cats and kids.

He takes me, sure....and then he checks himself in. Who’s going to watch the kids, mister?

Long story short, not only did I end up buying him snacks in the er waiting room and getting yelled at, our kids were unsupervised for five hours while he tried to talk the ER staff into getting him something stronger than his rescue meds (Stadol.) (Butorphanol? Whatever.) They gave me a headache cocktail of Benadryl, Toradol, and Reglan, and left me to sleep for an hour. I woke up feeling much more human.

And then I had to listen to him bitch the whole way back. People, he didn’t even mention needing to go to the ER. Nope. He acted concerned the whole way there, then walked right in and slapped his shit down. I expected, I don’t know, concern! I did not get any. I had to drive myself out to Wal-Mart to fill those prescriptions, because, and I quote, “I didn’t get any prescriptions I could use.” (He did get one - for Zofran. But he didn’t go for anti-emetics.)

And he’s been planning how great today will be all weekend, because he can pick up his Stadol today. Yep. I suspect he is an addict, but it’s not like I can make him do anything about it. Heaven knows I know this shit hurts…but I’m not popping Fioricet like candy here. Well, mine went away, too. Just some lingering dizziness, tiredness, and a slight headache on one side now. Probably from reading.

I should probably go make that worse.

Anyway, Sunday, I went out early and wrote a while, with a bagel. I got a lot done. I was quite proud. I also found blotter paper (the kind for your face) and discovered that Lion Brand doesn’t seem to make Comfy Cotton Cake Yarn in Blueberry Muffin anymore. Which fucking sucks, because guess what bitch has half an afghan?

But it’s triangular, and I think if I can get it wide enough, I can wrap it around my Chromebook and make an envelope style case.

I made a therapy appointment, a doctor’s appointment (for the migraines) and a dental appointment. I also have a nice fresh UTI, so I need to stop off for the meds for it tomorrow. I’d go tonight, but I’ll be here til 8…I don’t like my creative writing professor at all. Every other phrase is “are you with me here?”

Dude, no. I don’t even WANT to be with you there. Nope. Just give me prompts and shut the fuck up.

I have been doing this all on my own for so long that I might just not be teachable?