Lost Sunday

 

Yesterday I woke up at 4 am with one of those headaches.  I'd forgotten that the only thing worse than hot weather and high humidity is cold weather with high humidity. It always triggers a migraine and I had a doozey. I was sad to miss the Tour but happy to climb back under the covers for the day.

I swallowed my usual cocktail of OTC remedies, warned The Mister that I was down and out and let Alexa read me back to sleep. I had started Stephen King's The Stand but gave up when it wasn't really helping my Covid blues. It's about to be a mini series again with Whoopie as the 100 year old heroine so I thought I'd better finish it.

I had a good nap and woke up in the afternoon to watch the film adaptation of The Goldfinch. It took me two years to finish this 700 plus page book but I always liked picking it up. The critics hated the movie but I didn't. All the pictures I had in my head from the book were right there on the screen. 

My migraine dinners are always the same. Extra noodle soup in my Campbell's cup. By then I was lucid enough to notice my house looked like someone held a Boy Scout Jamboree in it. Oh, well. It will give me something to do since today is another Tour rest day.

I ended my day in bed with The Princess Bride. After seeing all the Twitter raves for the table read I had to go refresh my memory. It's been years since I've seen it. In spite of my migraine it made me laugh out loud. 

For a terrible, no good, awful day I actually had a pretty good time.