As Thursday night turned to Friday morning, I was asleep on the bathroom floor. Most of Friday was spent on the sofa. The only productive thing I did today was take my recycling down to the dumpster. I hate being sick. I hate wasting so much of my life just wondering if it's "safe" to eat a bowl of oatmeal, wondering if what I'm feeling is just a garden variety headache, or the start of a vicious, debilitating migraine.But as I write this, "tomorrow," or Saturday, has dawned. And, in the words of one of my earlier heroines, "Tomorrow is another day." I'm sure I'll feel better and get more done.
