My alarm clock woke me up this morning, which is really unusual--I always wake up at least a few minutes before it goes off, and turn on NPR and doze for a few more minutes before getting up. But today it interrupted my dream starring Jon Stewart (yum) and yanked me into morning-time before I was quite ready.
And I woke up with a headache. A mega-headache. I had writing class first thing this morning, and I grabbed a cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee on the way there, thinking the caffeine would ease it out. But although it tasted heavenly, it didn't help. The headache kept creeping up and creeping up, worse and worse as I sat there, and when I left Becky's house and walked out to my car, it had made it into the "top ten worst headaches of my life" list, quite a feat.
I came home and had lunch and popped three Tylenol, but my head is still throbbing. However, I have the day off and am fresh from my last writing class, and I want to take a little time to write about it.
Becky is a retired middle-school English teacher who has started holding six-week writing workshops in her home. I found out about the class last fall from one of the owners of the scrapbook store across the street from our former neighborhood. Becky scrapbooks, so she's a customer at that store as well as ours. I knew her only slightly, but a writing class sounded like a good thing at this stage. I took a couple creative writing classes when we lived in Idaho, but that was a long time ago, and since then the only writing I've done is journaling for scrapbook pages and instruction lists for my published work.
I'll finish this later...headache too bad now! Ugh.