I am 36 today. Doesn’t really feel much different than 35, but I think it’s running the same psychological scheme on me as getting a minivan did. It’s just not the same rolling with the windows down listening to Bon Jovi as it was in my SUV. And the van gets worse gas mileage. Go figure.
Today I’m celebrating with a bottle of Tylenol, a cold compress and hopes of not tossing my cookies with the nausea. I am still stuck in this vicious cycle of migraines. Nothing seems to help me break free, but the Demer0l and Vic0din from the ER Monday night after I passed out again sure did put a dent in it. After being euphoric for several hours, I can appreciate why people get addicted. I’d love to wander freely with an “eff you” attitude and not caring if my feet ever touched the ground again. For some reason, when I was under the influence it was tolerated, but if I’m just in a bitch mood people take offense to it. Odd, huh?