It's 6:00 : Do you know where YOUR intern architect is?

It's actually 6:15 pm, on the Thursday, and I should by rights still be seated in my cubicle, plugging away at millwork design for a 10,000 square foot house a hop, skip, and a jump from my 700 square foot apartment.

My apartment fits tidily in the master suite.

Instead, I am at home, where I have been since 11:40 this morning.

I awoke with a migraine - to be fair, I went to bed with one, too - and trudged off to work, hoping I could make it through the day. My neurologist recently increased the dosage on my migraine preventive medicine, and it had seemed to be working. Until last night.

I made it through two solid days of rain and storm, and then BAM! migraine when the sun came out. I want to be like the little girl playing outside my building and whine, "That's not fair!" but I will refrain. Even though I did just sort of do it.

I came home for lunch, to bolt down some sustenance and to take a nap, hoping that a slight recharge would help. Also, I took my migraine "rescue" medicine at that point (dose #2) hoping it would help out a bit.

It didn't help out immediately, but it did knock me out immediately. I slept until 1:30. And then I called Mrs. Robinson and told her I would not be back today, because of the migraine.

I went back to sleep, and awoke again at 4:15, still groggy - partly from the migraine "hangover" and partly from the pain medicine I took because my back was killing me. I still have some residual photophobia, and although the sounds of my new washing machine installed by Gustavo and Alan yesterday should be music to my ears, they are causing a bit of a pain somewhere behind my left sinus. Hopefully, that will dissipate by the morning.

It came as a surprise to Mrs. Robinson and the guys that I had a migraine, today. And Radio expressed disappointment that I hadn't informed him about the one I had last Friday (which had actually started on Thursday). But if I told them every time I had a migraine, I would probably sound like a whiny little brat. I don't tell the blogosphere every time I have one.

And why does the Blogspot spellchecker not include either Blogspot or blogosphere in their dictionary? Seriously? Sigh...

At least my migraine is not further egged on by the jumping racket created by my previous washing machine. At least my new one is quieter and less mobile.

At least.