Though laid low by the severe migraine, I haven’t been struck to a great extent by the realization that I’m here in Augusta for the duration, not just for Christmas. I left town when many others of my friends were leaving town to visit family, so the fact that I’m not returning to DC once the holiday is over isn’t really “real” to me yet. My brother told me, “You’re too damn old for dental school” when I mentioned it, and I hate realizing that I’m already middle-aged, and what I wanted to be when I grew up may be what I am, which is nothing, really. I’m highly educated, curious about international cultures, better informed about history than most of my contemporaries, and yet I am unemployed, and frustrated with my lot. My new house is so spacious and comfortable it is actually frightening, because I worry I’ll never, ever be able to pay for it, and apart from wanting to be a recognized and published author, I haven’t any inspiring dreams. I want to think BIG, rather than settling for sorting through minutiae, which is my fundamental distraction in life. But right now, the great-grandson of last night’s migraine is shifting in my brain, shoving its beak and claws into the pockets in my cranium, and I feel helpless. And hungry—all I’ve had today (it’s almost 4:30) is a banana, but I fear that the minute I eat I’ll become nauseated again. Blast! A pox upon migraines and all their brethren.