Hangovers, golfing with Satan, and smart tarts

Last night I got an unscheduled migraine that kept me up half the night.  By unscheduled, I mean a migraine other than the one that I get about every 28 days, if ya know what I mean.  That's sort of a drag but at least I can plan for it.  On the upside, my doctor said it would probably go away whenever menopause shows up.  15 years ago that was not very encouraging but now I can see the light at the end of the tunnel!  It almost makes me look forward to menopause.  Almost...since I know I'll be losing a migraine but gaining chest hair.  I guess I'm in that perimenopause stage right now where you have all the lovely symptoms of menopause but your monthly visitor hasn't packed up and left town yet.  That's a special kind of hell your mama doesn't tell you about.  I'll rant about that another time.

Today I'm nursing a migraine hangover.  If you've ever had a migraine, you know that the day after sometimes makes you feel like you have an actual hangover from a night of partying.  Without all the bad memories.  Or lack of any memory at all if you spent the evening with Jose Cuervo.  So I've heard.  Anyway, I've never really figured out the best way to deal with those.  If not handled carefully, you risk a rebound migraine and that just tanks.  Usually I just ignore it and let it run its course but it seems to me like someone should come up with a remedy.  For a regular hangover, there's that hair-of-the dog-that-bit-you thing that some people swear by.  So I've heard.  But I'm not sure how that would apply to a hormonally induced migraine.  One Facebook friend suggested lots of water and pot.  I can only assume she meant for me to make it into soup since I wouldn't know what to do with it otherwise.  So I've heard.  When I told another friend about that suggestion, she said "she put that on your wall for everyone to see??"  Yes she did and I really don't have a problem with that since she's not a real life friend and doesn't know me and I'm certainly not going to judge her for just being herself.  What I do have a problem with is my temptation to "like" her post cuz I thought it was funny.  Then later, another Facebook friend who I don't know suggested that migraines could be brought on by low magnesium, especially after a night of drinking.  Now I can't help but wonder if these people who I don't know read my Facebook page and just assume that I'm a pot smoking lush.  Strangely enough, I'm okay with that since it's a heck of a lot more exciting than the truth which is that I'm a chronically depressed slightly neurotic artsy geek who works at a church.  Yawn.

This morning Jayson and I went round and round over golf.  He loves to play golf and Dennis, our pastor, plays every Thursday with a bunch of guys from church.  Jayson is off today and really wanted to join them.  The only problem I have with that is the heat.  Jayson does not tolerate the heat well at all and the older he gets the worse it gets.  It doesn't matter how much water he drinks, if he's out in the heat for very long he will come in and cramp up for 2 days.  I really feel for him because he loves to play but his health is more important...apparently only to me.

Jayson feels like if it's cloudy then it's not as hot and then he can play.  This is south Louisiana.  It's cloudy all the time.  And it's hot all the time.  I don't understand why he can't see this.  Here is our text conversation from this morning:

Me:  At 10 this morning it was 94 degrees.  Stay inside.  If you need inside stuff to do I can give you ideas.

Jayson:  Leave me be.  I saw some clouds earlier and that may be all I need.

Me:  Clouds just lull you into a false sense of coolness.  It's all a lie.  If you go outside you will be sick all weekend.  Man up and do the right thing.

Jayson:  Manning up means I go golfing.

Me:  That's the easy decision.  You have to man up to make the hard decision.

Jayson:  It's getting dark over here so I'm encouraged.

Me:  That's Satan trying to cloud your judgment.  Don't fall for it. (I was so proud of myself for using "cloud".)

Jayson:  But I heard Satan is a golfer.

Me:  He cheats.

Me:  And throws his clubs.

Me:  And doesn't replace his divots.

Jayson:  Well, so does Dennis.

Me:  I'm telling him you said that.

And I did.  And I'm sure they will have a big laugh about it since Jayson did indeed go golfing with Dennis who apparently golfs like Satan.

Since I wasn't feeling 100% today, I decided to take off work early and take care of a few errands that I've been putting off.  First on my list was to stop by the library to pick up an audio book they were holding for me.  I'm a huge Janet Evanovich fan.  I've read everything she's written and have been anxiously awaiting the release of her 16th book in the Stephanie Plum series.  I've even read the cheesy romance novels she did before Stephanie Plum came along.  She has a very dry humor that appeals to me.  And I love the Stephanie Plum novels because I feel like we're kindred spirits.  She's a cute, single 30-something bounty hunter who lives in New Jersey and has two hot guys after her.  Yeah, we're practically twins.

Next on my list of errands was to drive to the DMV in Abbeville to get my registration renewed because it expired at the end of last month and I sort of forgot to take care of that.  Last week I was reminded that I forgot to take care of that by the nice officer who gave me a ticket for having an expired inspection sticker.  Fortunately, he didn't ticket me for the registration but there was no talking my way out of the inspection ticket since the thing expired in December.  About this same time last year I got a ticket for the very same thing.  You would think I'd learn.  I don't know what it is about that silly inspection sticker but I swear I'm blind to it.  On the rare occasion when I do glance at it and see that it's expired, it's never at a convenient time for me to take care of it.  The rest of the time, it doesn't exist to me. 

If you're reading this and you live in the Lafayette area, you probably already know what happened next.  On my way to the DMV I got pulled over again at the Maurice speed trap.  I was not speeding, I know better than that at that particular spot, but Officer Hubble Eyes spotted my expired sticker when I passed him.  I pulled over and by the time he got to my window I already had a hand full of drivers license, proof of insurance, expired proof of registration, a copy of the ticket I got last week, and a gum wrapper.  He said, "Did you know..."  I cut him off right there and started babbling on about how I know my sticker is expired and I already got a ticket for it last week, as if that was a good reason for him not to give me another one.  That should fall under that double jeopardy law...you can't be ticketed twice for the same offense.  (Note to self...call your congressman.)  So I shoved all my paperwork at him and told him in my most sincere voice with my most sincere face that I was on my way to the Abbeville DMV to get my registration renewed since I can't get the inspection sticker without it.  He said, "You're on your way there right now?"  I said, very sincerely, "Yes!  Right now!  That's why I'm here!"  Which later I thought was a really stupid thing to say since it sounded like I would have no other reason to be in Maurice other than to drive through it on my way to the Abbeville DMV.  That's not true.  Villagers is there and I do occasionally need their chili cheese fries.

Officer Hubble Eyes let me go with a stern order to get this taken care of.  Where were all of these helpful officers back in January when the silly sticker was barely expired and I might have been able to talk my way out of it??  I think they ignore you until your sticker is 6-months expired cuz they know there's no way you'll be getting out of that.  I thanked the officer profusely, still wearing my sincere face, and continued my journey to the DMV.  I live in Lafayette so why drive all the way to Abbeville just to go to the DMV when there's one across town?  Because I was in and out of there in less than 10 minutes, that's why.  People from all over the country should fly here to do their DMV business in Abbeville because it's never crowded and you can get in and out quick.

Once I had my renewed registration in hand, I headed straight for the Shell station on Congress to get inspected and get an oil change.  When I pulled in and told her what I needed, the gal who works there told me to leave my driver's license, proof of insurance and registration on the dash while she wrote up my order.  When she looked at my license plate she said, "Did you know your registration expired at the end of last month?"  I said, "Yes I do and I have a brand new one right here!" as I proudly held up my shiny new renewed registration.  I felt like such a big girl.  When she glanced at the inspection sticker I said, "that one's been expired for a while but it only took me one ticket to get it fixed!"  She gave me a little half smile but I could tell what she was thinking.  She was thinking that it's bubble heads like me who make it difficult for women to be taken seriously when it comes to car maintenance.  She's probably right but in my defense, she's sort of a masculine woman and since she changes oil for a living I'm willing to bet that she never gets taken advantage of when she gets her car repaired.  In fact, she probably repairs it herself.  I couldn't help but wonder if maybe she's gay.  Then I wondered if it was a bad thing that I wondered if she was gay.  It wouldn't bother me if she was, I was just pondering the possibility.  Then I thought about if she was gay, would she think I was cute.  At that point I thought it best to pull out my sketchbook and concentrate on my doodles.

Once I was street legal again, I made my way to The Orchard for my final errand.  The Orchard is our local Apple dealer/repair place and I needed to pick up a new power cord for Courtney and a new mouse for myself.  My Mighty Mouse was about 4 years old and had served me well until just recently when it decided it no longer wanted to scroll down.  It would scroll up without any problem at all but not down.  I put up with it for about a month then decided that being able to scroll down is a necessary component of my overall happiness and well being.  I MUST be able to scroll down with my mouse without having to click and drag the little scrolly bar thingie.  That's just not good time management.

I am probably going to offend all kinds of people with this tale because I know some of the Orchard employees and I like and respect them very much but I still feel the need to poke fun at them now and then.  The techs who have come out to help us with our computers at work have all been fantastic, I have no complaints about them.  Right now.  It just so happens that none of them were in the store when I was there today.  I've found that the customer service inside the store has always been a little sub par.  There have been times when I've walked in and several employees were milling around looking like they weren't doing much and none of them asked if I needed help.  It's a computer store.  It's staffed by what I might affectionately call geeks.  I totally understand their being shy or socially awkward.  I'm somewhat of a geek myself, these are my people.  I usually just let it slide and start screaming for help when I need it. 

Today the store was pretty darn crowded and all the salesgeeks were very busy helping other customers.  There was a woman wandering around and I thought she was a customer because she looked a little confused and out of place.  She was young and cute and blond and was wearing a little skirt with a bright green shirt and cute platform sandals that made my bunions ache just looking at them.  I went on about my business and found my new Magic Mouse and the power cord that I thought I needed but I wasn't sure.  All the salesgeeks were still busy with their customers so I started reading the cord's box to try to make sure it was the right one.  In the corner of my eye I saw the green shirt of the girl who by this time I had begun to mentally refer to as "The Tart" even though I know that's tacky and unfair and unwarranted and all that.  It had nothing to do with her character, she just looked so out of place in a computer store that I couldn't help myself.

So The Tart came closer and I saw a cordless phone in her hand.  Then she asked if there was anything she could help me with.  Oh.  She works there.  I mentally chastised myself for judging her based on her looks...then flashed back to the maybe gay gal at the Shell station and decided this was obviously a problem that I need to get a handle on.  I started by telling myself that I shouldn't be thinking of this woman as a tart just because she's young and cute.  She works at a computer store, for goodness sakes!  So I renamed her Smart Tart which nearly made me start laughing right there in front of her because I was picturing her with a name tag that said SmarTart, in the SweeTarts font.  I am ssooooo easily entertained.

I held up the power cord box and asked Smart Tart if it was the right cord for a MacBook Pro that was a couple of years old.  She said she wasn't sure, she's not a sales person but she would find out for me, then she wiggled and jiggled away to find someone with a clue.  She's not a sales person but she offered to help me and she was wandering around with a phone in her hand.  I figured she had to be the owner's girlfriend or something like that.  While waiting for Smart Tart to find someone available to answer my question, one of the salesgeeks broke free and asked if I was ready to check out.  He had on jeans, the official Orchard t shirt and no stilettos so I felt confident enough to hit him with my question about whether or not this was the right cord for a MacBook Pro that was a couple of years old.  Yes indeedy, I had the right cord.  Just about the time I had finished checking out, Not So Smart Tart returned and asked if my question had been answered because she was apparently unable to find anyone to answer it for her.  I assured her that it had and she thanked me for coming in. 

Sweet girl, I felt bad for making fun of her even if I only did it mentally.  Well, I guess I'm making fun of her here too, but since no one actually reads my blog that should be okay.  Besides, I wasn't in a good place because I had a migraine hangover, I had to run all these not fun errands, I got pulled over in Podunk, I discovered that I judge people based on their looks, and all I really wanted to do was go home and see what kind of trouble Stephanie Plum gets into and whether she hooks up with Ranger or with Joe Morelli this time.  That makes her a Plum Tart.