I actually want a migraine

I am about to write one of the stupidest things I have ever uttered: I love Sarah Palin.

Ha-ha! I jest. But, no. Seriously. Those bangs. To die for.

Here's what I really mean: I'm trying to give myself a migraine. Let me explain. There's only one thing worse than a migraine: Being on the brink of one. All day. The pain's there, too much for Aleve but not enough for percocet. My mind is scrambled, but still clear enough that my to-do list accuses me of all the things I'm not doing.

I need to read up on how to get the scholarship 501(c)(3) status, but yesterday it took me 4 hours to read two pages - and I don't mean front-to-back pages. I didn't even complete the second page. My room needs to be cleaned, but I don't know where to put my mail. The bank needs to be called, but I can't figure out how to put what needs to be said. My mind's working well enough to come up with problems, but not well enough to come to any solutions.

And the pain doesn't know what the hell it wants. The pain is worse than a normal headache but not enough for a migraine, so I can't treat it. I know how to treat migraines; but wishy-washy things in the middle are just aggravating.

In order to do anything about this I have to help tip it over into migraine territory. Once I've got a migraine I can treat it and feel better.  I'm sick of limbo.  Limbo can suck gasoline and lit matches. So I'm eating chocolate pudding and anything I can get my hands on; and just my luck it's taking much longer than it should. Why is it I always get a headache when I least want one and I can't get one when I actually need the evil little wanker? Sigh.