Otto and I had an appointment to attend this morning, and I was dragging. Badly.
I’m on a new hormone regimen. I’ve been getting migraines again. Now, I’m pretty sure the migraines started before I switched my meds, and I know I need to be patient to see if this fixes things or not—the joy of migraines is that they often beget themselves, so once I get on the migraine train it’s often a while before I can get off again—but in the meantime I’m apt to wake up with a migraine and flop around like a very grumpy beached fish while waiting for my meds to kick in and make me human again.
So we got the kids up and off to school, then I tried to get some work done, and Otto sat across from me here in the office and kept saying, “Are you okay?” like it wasn’t totally normal for me to be sitting here all slant-eyed and grumpy. Huh.
By the time we left the house, I was feeling a little better.
We went and did what we needed to do, and then Otto offered to take me to breakfast. Because he’s swell that way.
I don’t often eat breakfast. But my stomach can be a little sensitive to coffee when it’s not paired with food, and seeing as how I’d had a cup of coffee as big as my head to go with my migraine medicine (caffeine helps), I accepted.
We went to a local hole-in-the-wall and ordered, then sat and chatted and ate.
“Do you want a holder like that for our kitchen table?” he teased me, as I snapped a picture with my phone.
“No, I just like how every diner has something like this,” I said. It’s true—I consider a mostly-empty ketchup bottle a good sign, when it comes to diner food.
Otto offered me his last piece of bacon. I didn’t take it, but I’m pretty sure that means he loves me best. Even if I am kind of grumpy.
Happy Love Thursday, everyone.