Post-migraine

The light was too bright
Each sound was too loud--
A touch was too much
Now that the headache's gone away
Fio knows
Just how bad she felt yesterday.

Respite

Fiorella took the day off yesterday.  Well, she'd developed a bad headache and pretty much had to, but, like many bad things, it worked out for the best.  Her brain had been blasted on Tuesday by working on the taxes.  And she's been doing catch-up stuff after writing night and day for a couple of months there. But yesterday, all she did was drive off for a photofacial, which is relaxing in itself, then spend the rest of the the day watching dumb television, and drowsing.  Oh--and Husband took her out for a steak dinner.

But today, she'll hit the old grindstone again.  Her list is waiting.

Screw It!

I'm in a bad mood
I'm going to brood
Nothing is going right--
My schedule's awry
I want to cry
In fact, I think I might

Too much to do
My brain is goo
My head throbs like a drum--
And I can't ignore
That internal roar
Of "You dunce!  Can't you get anything done?"