All in the head

Today began with a pain in the head. Again. I knew it was going to be a bad day, waking up with a vice pinning together my forehead and left eye socket. And I was right.

By 9.15 we are late. Art with Hitler. My turn to set up the tables. Again. Sitting in the car at the service station, trying to remember is it diesel? Is it unleaded? What is it? What car am I driving with an ice pick lodged in my head and Squirrel going wahwahwah because Tiger has given her a kick for invading her seating space. Again. When we get to art I find out it's not my turn anyway, so needn't have rushed. I feel like banging my head against the wall, thinking I could have buried myself under the dark dark covers instead of rushing out and off. Perhaps the banging head solution is not for today.

Six aspirins and eight hours later I'm staring out the kitchen window wondering about sparrows when Dig creeps in saying he's moving the oven in the office for the VAT inspector. He can do it if I hold the bottom. You might not recall that the oven has stood in the middle of the office kitchen since January 15th, when Dig put it there. So now, despite not yet having reached convalescent stage in the head, I have to carry an oven through two flats and deposit it in the yard where the gate fell off. The oven is possibly condemned to stay there forever, or until I have hormones and can do one hundred impossible things in one day and ring the council to come and take it away.

Really, there is only one course of action left for a day when you wake up with knitting needles in your head and someone starts knitting with them while you are wondering why sparrowhawks exist before you are forced to move ovens.

Take refuge in eating. None of that bon apetit red pepper mousse and walnut salad in virgin olive oils. No. Real comfort stuff. And as much as you can manage in forty minutes. Two chocolate bars, five sugary biscuits, one chocolate muffin, two chocolate cherry sponge bars (OK then, I ate the chocolate cherry layer and threw the sponge away), followed by last night's left-over pasta, cold, and straight from the pan. But of course I do not want to get fat. Or fatter. So I've eaten an apple. Because apples do not make you fat. Or, I hope, make headaches worse.