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Man, I woke up with the worst migrane ever today. It felt like I had a bunch of railroad spikes stuck in my face, and if I moved at all, I thought I was gonna puke. (Coincidentally, Phil said that he had a dream last night where he was trying to pound railroad spikes into solid rock, using only his hands. If this happens again, I'm calling the cops.) It pretty much flet like the worst hangover ever, only without the fun of drinking. Lesson: drink more. Anyway, a couple of fistfuls of pills and some coffee later, and we're back to normal operational parameters.
Except that I just now realized it was Sunday, not Monday, so my plans to do stuff are all wrong. I have no idea what happened to yesterday. Poked around the yard, exercised a little, played a little GTA3, made some buffalo stir fry, watched a really terrible movie... nothing productive or stressful. Mrrg. More coffee.
Did I mention that I got my banjo back from my uncle Bernard, and it totally rules now? He put in a new bridge and tightened stuff up and did whatever magic he does, so the strings are spaced properly and everything, so I can actually get a chord out now and then without my fat fingers getting in the way.
Wait. I was gonna get some coffee.(July 06, 2003 01:38 PM)