Doggie dreams

About halfway through my work day yesterday my head started to get VERY heavy. I shrugged it off, figuring that it was a combination of continual sleep deprivation and too much food at lunch. But, low and behold, the pain hit me like a freight train. You know, the kind where you're standing right next to the tracks and the engineer is pulling on the horn and you think your ear drums are going to burst. All of a sudden, EVERYTHING WAS MAKING ME HURT. The light...it was everywhere...my computer screen, the windows; the noise...people talking, desk drawers opening and closing, even the sound of coworkers pushing the keys on their computer keyboards. The pain had arrived, and it wasn't going anywhere....MIGRAINE.

I've only had a handful of these headaches in my lifetime, but I know enough about them to realize that for me they don't just quickly fade away. I decided it was time to call it quits for the day...even talking to my coworkers to say goodbye was making my head feel like it was stuck between two prongs of a fucking vice grip. Walking out of the building and into the sun made it even worse....thank goodness for sunglasses.

I took the short bus ride home and hopped into the elevator. Damn elevator makes those loud beeping noises as we pass each floor as well....welcome to hell, seriously.

As I walk into my apartment who is there to greet me? Why of course, my lovablesweetadorable doggie, Turner. Most of the time when we're just chilling out at home, he's super laid back....just sits next to me with his head on my lap, or plays down on the floor with his plethora of stuffed toys. But, when I first get home, he's SOOO happy to see me. He has a tendency to be a bit spazzy for a few minutes until I take him out....not a good thing when your head is about to explode. So, I hurry to walk him so that I can quickly make my way back up to try to fight off the jackhammer that is pounding in my brain.

Once I've made it back upstairs I do everything in my power to turn my bedroom into a proverbial bat cave. At this point I make note that I really need to invest in some darker curtains because the blinds just aren't getting the job done. I take a couple of Tylenol PM, hoping that I can just sleep it off like a hangover.

I felt so bad for Turner though, he was really wanting to stay outside and play. But, being the good dog that he is, he could tell that something was up, so he hopped up onto bed and laid right next to me. Now, when I say that he laid right next to me, I'm not talking about him curling up down at the foot of the bed. My dog has convinced himself that he's part human, so he curls up with his head on the pillow next to mine. (Note for the future...whoever has the privilege of being my next serious boyfriend might have to duke it out with Turner for this coveted spot.) This isn't my bed in the photo below, but you get the idea.


It's nice and comfy to have him there. He barely moves at all, but I rather think he gets annoyed with me because of all the tossing and turning that I usually do to get to sleep.

An hour later, brain is still pounding, I'm still flopping over in bed, wondering why the hell the Tylenol PM hasn't kicked in yet. Just to make me jealous, Turner passes out like a fucking rock. He's all calm and quiet and peacefully thinking puppy thoughts, then WTF.....PUPPY REM SLEEP KICKS IN. I'm in hell, and the little bastard is having wonderful little doggie dreams. He's all twitchy and kicking his little back paws around...I really wonder what dogs dream about. A big tasty bone? Cute little bitch? Chasing after a bright yellow tennis ball (my dog's FAVORITE thing to do)? Oh well, at least one of us is feeling good, I suppose.


Thankfully, I fell asleep shortly after, slept until 9 p.m., and then was wide awake and unable to pass out for the night until 2 a.m. (go figure).

Song of the day: "Better" by Regina Spektor (cause I need someone to kiss it and make it BETTER!)