So many of you have children that would be better suited to life on a dairy farm! We have mused many times about just moving to the country and monetizing the children’s propensity for getting up early. Apparently we could all live on the same commune, mainlining coffee while our early-rising spawn milk the cows and gather the eggs.
I woke up this morning with a pretty bad headache that morphed into a migraine by mid-morning. One of those migraines where you walk around all day with one eye closed, because the light touching it is just unbearable. I actually contemplated wearing Ron’s pirate costume eye patch to go pick up George and Daisy at preschool; when I say “contemplated” I mean “found it in the costume box and actually wore it out to the car, but then realized having no depth perception while driving was a bad idea”.
However, I managed. I did laundry and baked muffins with Charlie; I did a science experiment with the school kids. I made chicken parmesan for supper because I’m a glutton for punishment, and then this evening I had a doctor’s appointment.
There may be things more unpleasant than getting a pap test while you have a migraine. Sliding down a banister made of razor blades and landing in a vat of iodine, say. Or sitting through a school council meeting about Winter Carnival Week. However, I would argue that having a pap exam is up there. My doctor is a kind, gentle woman who delivers a lot of babies. She does a pap in about five minutes flat, but still, it was not where I wanted to spend a chilly rainy November night.
Now I’m finally home. I’m wearing my jammies and drinking a cup of chamomile tea. I’ve been binge-watching Fringe on Netflix (have ya’ll seen it? It’s a great fun show. Owes a debt to The X-Files but doesn’t take itself too seriously) and so I have a date with scruffy Joshua Jackson.
I’m comfortable with that.