Arkie Mama: Dear Migraine

Why can’t you leave me alone?

You remind me of a couple of  former stalkers boyfriends, those annoying guys who refused to go away after being dismissed. (OK, so maybe I didn’t always make myself clear.)

But you, Migraine, you fully understand how much I loathe you. And still, you won’t be dissuaded from torturing me.

All day yesterday, you danced around the corners of my poor, weary brain, threatening an attack of monumental proportions. You knew, of course, that I had forgotten my medication. But you’re such a tease, no? Every time I picked up my keys, preparing to run home for the safety of my drugs, you subsided.

And then you waited, all night, before launching a second, and much stronger, surprise advance.

Now I’m trying to catch up with you, popping that pricey pill too late.

Looks like this will be an all-day battle. But I’m on furlough today, with quick access to a darkened bedroom and free from the demands of bosses and children.

Can’t you find someone else to bother? Someone who needs to be forced into quiet solitude?

Here are my recommendations:

Octomom

The people who won’t shut up about the First Lady’s legs. (Let it go, please. It’s not like we didn’t know she’s in possession of all her appendages.)

The rush-hour drivers who refuse to merge into the left lane while approaching I-30, who instead blow by everyone, expecting us to let you in at the last minute.

The woman at the gym who brings her 8ish-year-old boy into the women’s locker room.

The McDonald’s parents who pretend not to notice that their darling little 6-year-old Madyson is pummeling and biting the toddlers.

Oh, the list goes on and on, Migraine.

I’m retreating for now. But only until the pill kicks in. You have been warned.

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