Welcome to Friday, y’all! I’m happy to get to share with you the 16th segment in my fictional story, When Life Hands You Lymes. I’m beginning to finally feel like I’m getting to know and relate to Madalyn, the main character. Of course I would be delighted (like always!) to hear your thoughts. 🙂
“What about this, Madalyn?” Abbie held up a bolt of fabric that had a bunch of music notes on it on a cream colored background. “Do you need any new curtains? Or maybe a bag to carry your music books in?”
Wow, it was cool looking. “That’s great, but I would not have the first clue how to make anything out of it, curtains, bag or even a hemmed piece of cloth.”
Abbie leveled me a look, “Madalyn, be reasonable, I know that. I’m offering to make it for you.”
Oh. “That’s so sweet of you.” Being typical me, I couldn’t resist going over and giving her a hug. I studied the fabric a bit closer. “That would be so nice. How much should I buy for some curtains?”
“How big are the windows you want the curtains for?” Now why did Abbie have to go and be so practical like that? I tried to picture some of the windows in my wing of the house, but first off, they all already had curtains, and second of all, I had no clue their dimensions.
“How about we make a bag to carry my music books in?” I gave her a smile that I hoped didn’t show how confused I was, but then decided to just laugh at myself. “Ok, ok, I have no clue what to make, I can’t help you out with anything. I’m sewing-challenged. You just decide what you need, to make whatever you want to make, and I’ll buy it.”
“Did you say you’re sewing-challenged?” Julia asked, walking up with a ceramic cowboy boot shaped flower pot in her hand. “I think you mean you’re craft-challenged.”
“That too.” And we both laughed. It was all too well-known that the simplest project that had to do with dimensions and color schemes could through me into a tizzy. Laughing gave me a weird feeling though, suddenly I was a little bit light-headed, and I had to lean against the rack that was next to me.
Just then an employe with the name Ernest printed on his name tag walked up. “Are you ladies ready to have your fabric cut?” Poor guy, working at the fabric section of a store? I felt for him. I started zoning out as Abbie told him what she wanted and I realized my headache was reaching a new level of horribleness. Reaching into my purse, I took out a handful of cash and gave them to Julia, “Here’s so Abbie can pay for the stuff I’m getting. I’m going to go home, I’ve got a headache.”
Julia’s skeptical look stopped me. “Are you sure you should be driving? You look pretty bad.”
Just the confidence I needed. “I’ll be fine.” By the time I got to my Jeep (affectionately named Harmony), I was rethinking the fine part of my sentence, thinking I should have replaced it with a word like miserable or next thing to dead. Yes, headaches make me dramatic, but really, I was feeling nasty. I leaned back in my seat to rest my eyes for a few minutes before driving the extremely long ten minutes home. All I wanted to do was crash (not literally) in a dark, cool room where my eyes would be hidden from all light. I’d never had a migraine before, but I was beginning to think this is what they felt like.