The sky was overcast and luminous, the day crisp and barren. People milled about with an unnatural lack of chatter, and I eagerly awaited the creator of this daze to blink and send us all back on our way.

She pulled into the station with zeal for the price of gas was down. I remained safely in the confines of the car at first, wanting not to enter into that alter world. Mother nature tugged insistently on my hand, reminding me of the liter of water I had consumed, must now answer to.

With a sigh, I quit the vehicle and entered the luxuriously java perfumed interior of Kelley's Market. I went about my task in a sluggish, leaden foot sort of fashion, being fresh from my morning workout and weak legged as I was. So slow was I, that my mother had time to fill her tank, pay, and enclose herself once more in the comfortable plush of the front seat.

As I approached, jealousy overtook my form, an emerald cloak of envy blinding my cohesive thought, as I watched her sink her teeth around a Rice Krispie bar. I had taken note of that charger plate of cellophane wrapped treats as I passed them on my way out. My mouth filled with saliva and my toes felt tingly. Nearing my target, I saw a shiny parcel of Rice Krispie bar goodness grinning boldly from my seat. Mom effectively sealed me against a covetous ride home. I think she likes me.

Here's the part where it gets a little flamboyant.

You have to keep in mind that I eat healthy a good ninety percent of the time and that a treat of this magnitude is rare. I am faced with an assortment of them nearly daily, as Aunt Debbie is very Betty Crockerish, but it isn't often that I indulge. Knowing that in mere seconds I would be sinking my teeth into the sticky sweetness of that bar did something to me. I didn't have a clear notion left to be thought. It was as though I was hypnotized by the Evil Sugar God, a servant helpless to do his will.

I opened the door and made to plop to my seat with artless form, unladylike force. Only, the plan went awry. My neck snapped back painfully, as though being struck, and the deity was exorcised from my being. My forehead, an inch center-ward from my temple, screamed in agony while the back of my head rasped the deep growl of a ferocious headache.

My whole body seemed to turn upside down as the blood surged to my head. My limbs felt fuzzy and I stumbled an undetectable step or two back. Quietly, calmly, I summed up the event, "That really hurt," before opening the door, wider this time, giving my head wide berth and exercising a bit of grace in my descent.

Mom looked on in horror. The half dollar sized welt at the corner of my forehead probably played a role. The lump turned a sickly pale as the surrounding skin went raspberry. I have never felt more attractive in my entire life as she stared at me with saucer eyes, crinkled nose, and parted, distorted lips. The muscles in her forehead lifted her face a good inch in its worry lines, and I felt the need to soothe her mother's heart. My tolerance for pain is high, after all. "It looks worse than it feels," I said as I tore my gaze away from the grotesque image reflected in the flip down mirror from the visor. "It's the back of my head that is really bothering me."

Why I thought this would soothe her is a mystery, as we both know what that suggests. "Oh Laura! You have a concussion!" she cried desperately, staring at my lump. I grew uncomfortable under her gaze and looked into my lap, where I had folded my hands. Hmmm...hands...I had hands...cool. Experimentally I lifted one and moved the fingers, then the other: doubly cool. In hindsight, I am certain this looked even more worrisome, but I wasn't quite myself. I hit the top corner of the door with plenty of momentum and all of my body weight beside...it was enough to make anyone daffy for a few minutes.

Belatedly, I noticed the Rice Krispie treat, and though I felt fuzzy and upside down, I tore into the cellophane rather dexterously...perhaps the Sugar God hadn't been exorcised after all.

I had procured new pillows for Miles earlier that fateful morning, as he has been experiencing terrible neck pain as of late. We made our way back to him as I continued to unwrap my parcel, not feeling quite right, not wanting to irritate my mother's sensitive worry triggers. She asked gently, "Would you rather just finish my half? Give Miles yours?" She knows I like to give him treats...but I was feeling particularly uncharitable at the moment. Stupid Sugar God.

"Like Hell," I muttered as I closed my mouth around the morsel. I closed my eyes and felt the blood vessels around my temples raise shaking fists at my action. I suppose they didn't need the extra blood surge, but hey, funny thing about hindsight is that it's 20/20. I ate with a gusto.

And speaking of hindsight...

Now, just shy of a full twenty-four hours later, I can estimate that I've had better days.