Stop Drilling into My Head, Please

Well, today was an eventful day.

I woke up this morning with a headache. Nothing completely out of the ordinary, although I've never had a headache specifically like this before. Nothing else hurts, nothing else is...affected. It's just a pain in the side of my head, and I've been describing it as though my head is in a drill press, which seems kind of accurate. Nothing around the affected area hurts, it's a pinpoint pain, and moving my head or body doesn't affect the intensity of the pain at all. Aside from nausea that I felt earlier today, I didn't feel any of the usual symptoms associated with this kind of pain in my head.

I left work at 3:00.

After I threw up.

That's the only reason I called it quits. That and, it's pretty difficult to concentrate when someone's got a drill to your skull -- I'm just saying.

I came home to find a package from Tokyo Police Club, their CD and a t-shirt. I don't look great in grey. Or in American Apparel tshirts. Fine, whatever. That's my fault. What really pisses me off is that the jewel case of the CD was broken. I mean, honestly, I don't feel like mailing this back, regardless of who pays for it. Yeah, I'll just deal with it, and yeah, that probably means I shouldn't be bitching about it here or anything, but how hard is it to get a CD from point A to point B without breaking it, assholes?

I hate our Postal Service guy/gal. Hate. Among the packages that are just MISSING are a book that I ordered from mighty girl over a month ago, and some yarn I purchased on eBay in August. And that's just stuff I'm aware of. The problem is all of this stuff has confirmation of drop offs. So is someone stealing my packages? It's possible. Is the landlady keeping them, thinking in her senility that she's doing some sort of service? Also possible, but then fuck her son for not noticing and bringing them over because he's not 96 and senile. Is the postal worker not leaving them, and taking them back to the Post Office? That's also possible, but goddamnit, now I have to walk out of my way in the morning, wait in line, and then ask them (I've tried calling, but they're Postal Workers. In other words, they're Completely Fucking Useless. Especially over the phone). The flaw in this is that I think one of my packages was sent via UPS. So what the hell, people?

On the other hand, I left work while it was still daylight, and so Scott recommended I get some good old UV rays in, to ward off the depression. I asked if I should hike up my pants to expose the backs of my knees (according to Scott, who is some sort of medical expert (JOKE), shining a flashlight on the back of your knees during the winter helps ward of S.A.D. I didn't bother to check up on this, since I was too busy laughing. And S.A.D. is serious business, folks. You don't laugh about S.A.D.)

I'm going back to bed. Why am I even still awake? Oh right, because I slept for four hours already today.