No, that’s not misspelled. <grin>

70,518 this morning.

Last night, in the midst of writing the climax of the climactic chapter of The Fall, I realized I was seeing streaks. For those not familiar, this means (in my case) that a migraine is coming on. My vision will blur and fill with lightning streaks for about 25-30 minutes (I’ve been getting these for 40 years — so yeah, I’ve had plenty of opportunity to time my auras), and then a sledgehammer hits me in the head.

Often, I get dizzy. Sometimes, I get very disoriented. This latter was the case last night. When my vision cleared, I wandered into the living room, found my husband asleep on the couch, woke him up, and said, “I’m sorry that you went to bed.” Then I toddled upstairs, got into my summer nightie even though I was shivering with cold, and decided it was imperative that I take a hankie to bed with me, though I couldn’t figure out why. My husband, who knows what I’m like when I have a migraine, followed me around to make sure I didn’t fall over and hurt myself.

Really, the fun just never stops.

This morning, I’m just dizzy — I think. The pain in my head has reduced from sledgehammer-on-a-rope to child’s plastic toy hammer. It’s hard to tell if I’m still disoriented, because the rest of the family is either asleep (young adults *sigh*) or Out Doing Stuff, and I haven’t interacted with anyone yet. I was able to add up my word count for The Fall, which is a good sign. Some of my higher functions, at least, are working, although it might be a sign of impairment that I’m excited about being able to do simple addition. This, from a woman who spent a semester of her undergraduate years constructing a topological proof of the Fundamental Theorem of Algebra and impressing the hell out of the crustiest (and research-wise most prolific and most widely published) professor on the math faculty.

I think I’d better change the font color on anything I write today. I’m a little off.