June 24, 2025
I wasn’t yet experiencing the particular fun of a migraine when I wrote Trevor’s Song, but if I had, I’m sure Trevor would have claimed he had those, too. Anything to hide the truth.
So… we’re in the heatwave over here, like millions of others. Sunday night into Monday, my upstairs was HOT and I was mourning the loss of my attic fan, which is something that’s no longer up to code or used in modern roofing. And, of course, I got a new roof over the winter. Last night, I adjusted a few vents down here, just a tweak, but it made a difference.
Still, the combination of heat plus not sleeping left me in a world of hurt yesterday. I was supposed to go hold a friend up at her son’s funeral, and then pay a shiva call on the family in the evening. Nope. I hid on the couch and tried not to whimper so loudly, I disturbed the cats.
Fun times.
Despite the pain in my head, I was able to focus and work. I needed my reading glasses, which I only need sometimes (don’t ask; brains are weird and just wear your eye protection, okay?), and I’m sure the fact that this was a second read-through helped. I’ve got a short story and another novel waiting for me — and another one’s set to arrive soon — so it’s not like I could take more time off. Not with the disruption that the Westmoreland Arts and Heritage Festival is going to bring.
Another thing I did to help my brain was to spend about half an hour outside. Maybe more. By then, the sun was blocked by the neighbor’s house and although the temperatures hadn’t come down that much, it was manageable out there. I got my thousand words in, but not too much more than that. At least I’m not falling farther behind in my goals.
The Undetectables, by Courtney Smyth
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Take care of yourselves if you’re in this heat… or if you’re not! Having a migraine SUCKS.
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