I am behind on life, because I have a headache.
I know this sounds like a lousy excuse, but I'm pretty sure that my headache would kill a normal person.
The pain usually originates behind one of my eyes. Left, right, it doesn't matter, so long as it's stabby.
Then it snakes like a razor hot stream of pain to the back of my head, down my neck, and settles into my hip.
On the way down, it likes to wrench hold of my intestines, tying them in knots.
The wrong smell sends me running to the bathroom, almost as if I was pregnant, but that is so not the story.
I guess what I am saying is that I apologize for not getting back to you, and I'm sorry that the invoice is late.
I haven't responded to your emails, and unless something magical happens fast, I will still NOT be answering them in the morning.
love,
the girl who tried to go to church on Sunday, but didn't make it all the way through the meetings.
P.S. I hate the way your perfume smells. No really, it's awful.
