So, yeah, my head is continuing on its quest to self-destruct. I got enough of a reprieve last night to watch "The Bachelor" and feel superior that I was able to get married without a team of producers and a national audience on-hand. Even played Sudoku online, because I was feeling quite wild and carefree. Go, me.

I slept as though I was in a field of poppies for the first several hours of the night. Then, just before 4:00, Willem gently whumphed an elbow into my ear and said, "Canyougetthebaby?" I said, "Mmph," and went in to lay Jacob back down. He - Jacob - is not in the running for the Baby Sleep Olympics, but when he lacks in duration he makes up in ease of re-unconsciousness. So he was back asleep within about 3 minutes.

It was at this point that I realized, "Hey. I can't see." And not because it was dark or I was tired - my eyes were wide open and I was seeing some funky stuff, all sparkly and shiny and pretty. Being a moderately teachable creature, I remembered this same experience over the past three days and realized, "Hey, I think I'm about to get another heada--" BAM. No cute little earning and fade-out of aura this time, no sirree. I spent the next 45 minutes trying to sleep, and then the 45 minutes after that sitting on the bathroom floor rocking back and forth and mewling pathetically and unable to decide whether throwing up would be a relief or suicide.

Wait, scratch that. I was alone in the bathroom, no witness. So, those 45 minutes, there was no mewling. I bore up stoically under my pain.

Bah.

Went back to bed after Willem nearly beat me with a bathtub ring, assuming I was an intruder (I feel so much safer in the house now, knowing his plan of attack), and spent the rest of the morning sitting up and whimpering.

Went to the local urgent care center this morning, all the while reminding myself, "Oh, right, THIS is why health insurance is so popular." I spent a grand total of 47 seconds with 4 different employees, all of whom told me, "Yeah, you have a migraine." Thanks. I had guessed.

My favorite interaction was with the fuzzy yoda-like nurse, who came in and said, "So, you have a headache?" I said, "Well, I guess... if an amputation is the same as a papercut in your world." He said, "Ha ha," (with precisely that much enthusiasm) "Does it hurt?" I was barely able to restrain the flood of sarcastic responses that came to mind at that moment, and satisfied myself with nodding and pouting.

At the end of the visit, I was offered a choice: have an IV that would leave me "knocked out cold for a good long while," or take some other stuff that would "have you in less pain so you can make it to bedtime." I opted for choice B, although, really, when you're choosing between a Mack truck and a train, at the end of the day, you're still getting run over.