I’m sitting here with an ice pack and a dish towel on my head

My neck is out.  That’s what I get for napping.  And I was slinging a toddler around all day at music class, at the park and at the field.  I’m having vague recollections of migraines gone by, so I’m trying stave the potential of one off by driking cold water and letting the trickle of melting freezer frost slide down my cheek.

I’m watching Who Killed the Electric Car? That’s not helping my stress level.  (gaaaah…electric cars: GOOD, people!)

I’m watching some new fangled flu virus spread out from our upcoming vacation destination.  That’s not really making me feel any better, either.

I’m phoning around and texting, trying to track my friend, without being over-bearing, to make sure she’s safe.

You can hear my blood pressure from here, right?

So, tomorrow, I’m phoning in for a lovely, knot busting massage. To console myself in the meantime, I painted my toes and cuddled the Magpie. Between that and the now soupy ice pack, I think it’ll tide me over.

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