Migraine, Guilty Pleasure

I had many plans for Saturday night. Dinner and front-porch drinks, party on Arthur St., informal wake for a friend’s father. Managed dinner, but the front-porch drinks saw me sitting, wrapped up tight as possible, glass of tepid water in hand, listening to people and not saying a word.

Skipped everything else and was asleep by 10:15. Stayed that way for more than 10 hours. When I woke up, the migraine had landed and was aiming to stick around. After a week of starburst firework headaches, it was almost a relief. Couldn’t manage to find the ibuprofen in the grocery store, but Shelley saved my brain with sweet sweet pain relief.

The workshop we did at Ladyfest – Sex for One for Women – was somewhat marred, I feel, by my stumbling and grasping for basic vocabulary. “So, we’ll start with the, uh, um, I’m going to talk about, ah, vaginal play.” Smooth.

Tonight, the season opener of CSI: Miami is on. Mike is in China, and I am very sad he will be missing this momentous occasion. It’s one of those nice couple-y things we do. We like to watch David Caruso and imitate him taking his glasses off and putting them back on again. I like that he gets CSI as a comedy. Mike, that is, not David Caruso. Though I have a sneaking suspicion that DC too, is in on the joke.