The Headache Persists

I think it is the decrease in caffeine. Caffeine withdrawal headaches are terrible.

There is a mouse in the cupboard. I can hear it, scritch-scratching away in there, freaking out the cats. I don’t know what to do.

I knew it was only a matter of time. So gross.

Kill it, Shane! Don’t bring it to me.

That’s why cats present you with their trappings, dead birds and mice, and such. They see you as kittens who can’t fend for themselves. I think that is adorable, hilarious, and icky.

Nina had asked me when the next inventory is and I don’t know. I think March? I’ll be out of work until probably March 7 or so.

So a month from today, with any luck, the whole thing will be behind me. Although I’ll still be seen for OT.

The kid thinks it might be too much for me to come back the week between surgeries, and it might, but I’m going to try. I really really don’t want to be out of work for three whole weeks.

I guess I’ll have to see how I’m feeling. I’m kind of a wimp when it comes to pain tolerance. I think I have a pretty low threshold. That’s why I thank God I don’t have sciatica or lupus.

Mom suffers greatly from lupus, and she has very high pain tolerance, so it must be an incredibly painful condition.

Redheads are truly odd. They metabolize medication more quickly, they supposedly faint more often, they are picked on, the low threshold for pain, skin sensitivity and conditions.

Also, and this may just be my experience, I’ve found that some red headed women, myself included, probably, have a chip on their shoulder. Huh. Probably from being picked on as a kid.

The kid is strawberry blonde, and he’s sweet as sugar. But Sherry said red headed boys are different.

Sure enough, I grew up with three red headed boys, and all three of them were athletic, smart, and wildly popular. One of them was actually probably the most popular boy in the whole town.

There were two red headed girls in my grade: myself, and Sue Brass, and we were both social outcasts, me more so.

When I was little, I really wanted to be her friend. I felt we were kindred spirits because of our same color hair. But my hair was a pretty red. Hers was fire engine red. We were compared all the time, even by adults. And Sue hated me.

I remember trying to make conversation with her in third grade. It was not well-received.

Years later, at the height of my social isolation, even she bullied me.

God, how did I get on this? I can’t share this with Desmond! It is too heavy, too sad.

To my credit, I never disliked being a redhead. To my parents’ credit, they did teach me to be proud, not ashamed of my unique hair color. I’ve never dyed it, never will, until it turns white. Even then, I might not. People like white hair, nowadays.

Well, it’s time to go. Hope I haven’t bummed you out. Jesus, I’m like the Morrissey of blogging, aren’t I.

Anyway, have a terrific Tuesday, commute safely, and thanks for reading!