I think I have started seeing the hallmark butterfly rash on my face. I don't think I just happen to be having hot flashes every other time I look in the mirror. It's not there all the time, but it is there just enough to make me a tiny bit afraid of what is coming. This afternoon got to me. It became too much. I wore out my joints and connective tissues badly yesterday, finishing the bookshelves for my daughter (at least the 10 inch deep lower set). I went back to curtain making today, and got one set completely finished. The other window just needs the carefully cut and ironed satin trim edges applied. (I had to add edging, because without it, the curtains would just barely meet over the window, like the one on my north wall of my bedroom.) None of this is hard work, but it is slow and tedious to make it done exactly right. I hold myself very taut in the process, and that makes everything hurt.
Around 6 this evening, I took a tramadol, and twenty minutes later, I took a flexiril. They only took the edge off of the pain, rather than eliminate it. But this way I have a hope of sleeping tonight. Was too hard last night. In fact, by about 730 or 8 tonight, I had to grab a thick blanket and nap until I was notified that supper was ready. I am, to use a word that fits both the feeling and the linguistic challenge that comes from it, feeling really spoopy now. It might be funny to show you exactly what I am really typing, without the autocorrect. It would be totally illegible. I have no intention of proofreading tonight (not that I do it much these days any way, which I am sure you have noticed). If I'm lucky, I will switch from phone to iPad, so I can upload whatever pictures I took today. If I don't, oops. I've already outperformed expectations for being this sedated.
Damn that to-do list doesn't get much shorter on days like this.
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