Every year around this time (though it happens during other seasons as well) I get a headache and it usually takes me several days to remember that despite no other symptoms–runny eyes and nose and sneezing–it is some form of allergy that I’d developed late in life.
This autumn, smarter since eventually I’ll learn, I’ve pulled out the antihistimenes by today, the second day of that dull pain that my father used to call "a heavy head"; he also used to say his "head felt like a balloon," and so I laugh at the commercial that uses this illustration.
So I’m looking to a slow day still of peaches–hopefully the last of ’em–and minor errands out and reading. And eventually noticing that the pounding in my head has gone away.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology