In which the Rodent learns from past mistakes.

Having spent another restless night listening to the wind (and even, at one point, nipping out for a 3am walk to see how bad the wind was), I learned that Tramadol is not really any good to me as a nightcap. Today I took it early. Not terribly early, since I slept through until my flute teacher rang me at some point past 3pm. I may have needed it, today was much better.

I went Outside! I went to the butchers and had returned, unpacked veg and cooked us both breakfast before much more than an hour had passed since waking. This is very quick off the mark for me, but it did put me on edge for the rest of the day: one reason I like two hours to get off the mark from sleep to Out.

Then the second trip was to the garage, pausing only to admire a double part-rainbow, a complete rainbow and a pretty sunset. There I got enough gas for a goodly while and various sundries. I am having fewer episodes where I forget what I was doing and miss chunks of time, which is nice. I was able to stay focused on what I was doing right through all the processes of getting to the garage, getting money, looking around at things and then paying. I did nearly walk off without the gas, but that's fairly normal.

I'm not sure how to explain the difference between normal absent-mindedness and the strange, frightening voids in memory that bother me. I think it's the difference between forgetting to pick up the gas and forgetting what a gas card is and not being able to work out what to do with it, or where I currently am, and why.


A second meal was cooked and eaten: thinly sliced leeks cut on the bias and cooked in butter, white wine and nutmeg, to which grated carrots and then dried tarragon were added. With this, Ruthi had my last vealburger (I made it from high-welfare veal) and I had big, fat venison sausages from the local butcher. We both had sweet potatoes cooked with allspice and sage, pronounced very delicious by Ruthi.
Dessert was underripe pear and overripe red plum cooked in red wine, brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg and fresh ginger. Ruthi had seconds, so I think she liked it.

Since I've put laundry on, remembered to give Moth her hot water bottle and done the bulk of the washing up, as well as my ten chores, I'd say today was a very high functioning day. It remains to be seen how well tomorrow goes, but hopefully an early night will get me awake in better time to go museum-visiting.

Pain is only about four, bothersome but I can still feel good, spiking to six, ow, or seven where life seems unfun and I have to stop typing.

In which the Rodent plants bulbs and plays the flute.

I don't know whether this is my fourth or fifth lesson. I'd practised, but I am just not getting those eight-count blasts of noise, so that is my homework. Bizarrely, I can't read notes right after the rest, at least not when migrainous. The rest turns into an extra line or even two, and it makes it difficult to read the note straight after, especially if it's a minim. The solution turns out to be pencilling in a vertical line after the break to halt the bleeding of one mark into another.

This problem solved, we played on and I turned out to be spectacularly inept at C. This, alas, I cannot blame on my migraines. Sometimes I just am bad at something. :0) I have to be able to produce C easily too. If it's for 8 counts, this will be a bonus. Alex aims for one note per lesson and I am falling behind. I am still enjoying it. The tunes I produce may not be exciting, but they're tunes and I am sight reading them.

Since it was a nice day, I finally planted the bulbs I bought just after the January New Year. Then I rested and ate before my friend arrived. She helped me with the DLA forms, which have long ago run past their deadline because I've had no one to help me with the forms. This need for help was starkly realised within a page or two - left alone, I would have given up. As it is, I need to find a dozen pieces of paper and I am not sure I can. One page where everything was a stark YES I need help was communication. To those reading this blog, this might seem odd, but it's true. I avoid letters, forms and telephones because they hurt. Without Pol to pay the bills, I'd be sunk.

In between this, I fed her on wild boar sausages, steamed broccoli (florets and thin slices from the stem), raw carrots cut into matchsticks and thin slices of celery in crescents, with ketjap manis in a tiny little shot glass as a dip bowl.

The headache started waxing at about the time I sat down with the forms, lunchtime, which is amazingly late in the day for me. Usually I've had at least one by the time I have been up a few hours. As it is, the same headache is now pounding away at my head six hours later, which is all par for the course. I took cocodamol when it hit. I resisted taking it again just now, but I think actually I should if I am convinced that many painkillers mean fewer migraines in the long run. I have just trained myself to put up with the pain.