TW³

Or that was the week that was.

This week has just about kicked my ass. The blinding headaches have returned, which I've self-diagnosed as a combination of sinus and tension. I'm self diagnosing because I don't feel like taking a trip to see Smokin' Dr Javier only to have him give me a decongestant and nothing for the actual pain. (He's not big on pain pills.) So I am forgoing him and am currently trying to gouge friends and family members for drugs. (I've only got 2 of Mr M's Naprosyn left, and am coming up lemons with everyone else, save for dear stalwart Stennie, who tried to email me a Vicodin last night, bless her heart.)

Anyway, work's been hell, actually work's been hell for about 3 weeks now, with people and flying missives of all kinds landing in my lap and a revolving door of people gone in ones and twos from the office, leaving just a skeleton staff to try to take care of things (and oddly enough, guess who one of the skeleton staff always seems to be).

And so therefore I've been sleeping a lot. A whole lot. I had the afternoon off yesterday and came home and slept four hours and although I later felt guilty about it, it was glorious at the time. And yes, I know that activity and exercise might release some endorphines that will make my life worth living, but I have a headache, for God's sake, I can't move, let alone exercise! So get off my back.

Part of my recuperation (can you recuperate from something ongoing? maybe I should say convalescence) has also been to see some movies I've been wanting to see. So far I've done "Freaky Friday" (cute, enjoyable, and thankfully, not pretending to be anything more than it was), "Lost In Translation" (absolutely kickass, and should win the Best Picture Oscar, but won't), "American Splendor" (as kickass if not more, and extremely enjoyable to watch), and "Seabiscuit" (very good, if not overly long and at times pompous). The problem with that is: now I've seen all the movies I was hankering after, what am I going to watch now?

As you all know, one of my great guilty pleasures in life is watching the Match Game. Now, it had been mentioned at one time (I think by my dear friend and brand new dad Crispy) that there came a point in proceedings where Richard Dawson became very disenchanted with the show and his co-stars and became, for lack of a better phrase, a complete bastard pain in the ass. Well, I've seen a couple of episodes of Match Game this week while I've been home for lunch, and I thought I might be seeing Richard in the winter of his discontent. He was completely surly. No laughing, no joking with the other panelists (including Fannie Flagg, who Richard normally had a good time with), no Paul Lynde impersonations, and really, not even any imaginitive answers. In fact, no personality at all. This was, of course, distressing to me, because I loved Richard and Charles (and goofball Patti Deutsch, who wasn't on nearly enough). So anyway, I thought I'd hit a real televisional gem there, then realized that Richard was supposed to have turned ugly around 1978. These episodes were in 1975! So either there was a really long gestational period of surliness, or else he was just having a bad week. In any case, it was quite bizarre to watch.

So now on to the weekend, thank God. My only goal is to tackle my bedroom. It's gone very awry in the last month or so. So awry, in fact, that I'm not quite sure where to start on it. It shall either be getting the piles of clean-but-folded clothes out of the floor (so I can vacuum) or start a massive clean-up of my night stand shelves.

But if my head keeps hurting, I'll just end up going in there and curling up on the bed for awhile. Like till morning.