I wish I could make deals with my body. Like, okay, you can have a migraine for a day but you have to wait till next Tuesday, 'kay? Because having it jump up and bite me in the ass does no one any good. (And neither does that bitter-cold wind we're having too.)
So, yeah, hello high stress levels. Four nights down, eight more to go. I'm a one-third through this trip. Argh.
Griffin's out of school today and tomorrow for parent-teacher conferences.
I went to his this morning, his teacher loves him. He has outstanding grades. The only slightly-negative thing on his report card was from his art teacher. Apparently, he's not "doing" his art right - this isn't the first of this I've heard. Griffin doesn't like art class because his art teacher tell him he's doing it wrong. To which I always tell Griffin, "Work on your art, do not talk to others. Hold you scissors properly. Use the materials you teacher wants you to use - but ultimately you can't do art wrong." What a fucking dumbass.
I'm blaming my headache on her.