At least I'm not sweaty

Throb, throb, throb ...

My eyes opened early this morning and it was excruciating.

Pound, pound, pound ...

Argh, my head.

I tried going back to sleep because I'm stupid and lazy, but the pain was overwhelming.

I stumbled to the hall closet and began to blindly search for migraine drugs. Bill came to my rescue and handed me the box of gold-plated pills (OK, they aren't gold-plated, but they cost enough to be. 20 bucks a pill is just crazy, drug-company people. Make Viagra $20 a pill. Give us our migraine pills on the cheap, ffs.)

I choked down a pill and fell back into bed.

Ten minutes later the nausea brigade were doing a dance in my gut. Thank all things lucky that I still had some nausea medication left over from my fun bout with the stomach flu.

Once I start puking from a migraine, I always end up on the losing end of an IV in the emergency room. (I once had an ER doctor say to me, "Oh yeah, you're migraine puker." Neat! I'm the migraine puker. Good times.)

I choked down another pill, sent my boss an e-mail telling him I'd be late to work then buried myself in my pillows waiting for the evil to leave my body.

Migraines can kiss all three of my asses.

So, no bike ride for me ... but today I am far less sweaty.