on the Quil and nothin' shakin'

I thought eight hours of sleep was the wonder cure.

Wonder cure, where are you?

I'm back to trying what I know: Grateful Dead tshirts, fleece hoodies in a good winey color, smartwool socks, super orange pills.

First problem with the Quil today: it's not helping fast enough. I'm in migraine danger here; come on, decongestant, come on. Second problem: the crashing in four hours, the returning to snotville and all that.

So far I'm promising myself a trip home and working from home in two hours.