Maybe it’s the post-holiday let-down.
Maybe it’s because, after days of rain and gloom, today is cold and foggy, and still gloomy.
Maybe it’s because the air pressure changed overnight and my head hurt so much I had to take an Imitrex before going out this morning for fear I would have a full-raging migraine.
Maybe it’s because I cut my finger while helping to prepare a funeral luncheon at church this morning.
Whatever the reason, I am now home, sitting on the couch, with my hoody pulled up over my head and feeling very much out of sorts, having left the luncheon prep to a kitchen-full of other church ladies. The cut finger did me in. I didn’t want to work with any more food for fear of contamination, nor did I feel very engaged and engaging, so I quickly excused myself and made a bee-line for my car. I realized, driving away, that I felt really awful, both physically and emotionally.
That’s when I tried to figure out why I felt this way. The finger surely couldn’t be the reason, yet it seemed to bethe tipping point. The cut was superficial, but one that produced copious amounts of blood. The headache had retreated, under an Imitrex-induced pall. Although the weather was still yucky, the car was warm and traffic light. I just could not put my finger on the reason, except to say, “I feel terrible.”