I woke up this morning not dreading the week… or at least not completely dreading it. That in itself feels like something of a small victory.
I’m not excited about the week ahead—let’s not get carried away—but I’m also not upset about it. Normally, Mondays come with a heavy sense of reluctance, that familiar “here we go again” feeling. Today, though, I’m somewhere in between. Not eager, not annoyed—just… neutral.
And honestly, I’ll take neutral.
Of course, the morning couldn’t be entirely without frustration. As part of my usual routine, I organize my prescriptions for the week on Sunday or Monday morning. I didn’t get to it yesterday, so I tackled it today—and that’s when things went sideways.
I realized I’m out of one of my migraine medications. Somehow, my pharmacy has marked it as inactive (even though I thought I had already filled it), and it looks like another prescription was sent to the wrong pharmacy altogether. To make matters more complicated, the pharmacy has requested new prescriptions for three of my medications from the Headache Clinic—and so far, there’s been no response.
I know there’s been a change in neurologists at the clinic, but still… it’s frustrating. These are the kinds of things that shouldn’t fall through the cracks.
So now I wait. If I haven’t heard anything by noon, I’ll start making phone calls and see if I can untangle the situation myself.
What a way to start the week.
Still, I’m holding on to that sense of neutrality from when I woke up this morning. Maybe this is just a small hiccup, not a sign of how the rest of the week will go. Here’s hoping things smooth out from here.
Sometimes, a week doesn’t have to start perfectly—it just has to start.
Fair warning: today’s post is more medically informative than my usual reflections—it’s still personal, but a bit heavier on the details than you’re accustomed to here, and I suspect this medication may also make me a bit loquacious, as Susan could probably attest after our conversation last night.
It’s not often that I wake up and still feel this sleepy. I have a migraine medication that I rarely take because it can make me drowsy for a couple of days. Most of my other medications work fine, so I tend to avoid the ones that linger like that. I think this morning’s drowsiness is also due to a migraine medication.
At my last appointment at the Headache Clinic, they gave me a new medication to try. It’s one of the newer CGRP medications. I’ve tried several over the years. This one is interesting because it can be used as a rescue drug, though some CGRP medications are used as preventatives.
I take Qulipta daily as a preventative. Ubrelvy, however, is a rescue medication. Most CGRP medications are taken once a month, once every three months, or daily. Ubrelvy isn’t taken that way. It’s meant to be taken at the first sign of a migraine—usually an aura.
Auras look different for everyone, but they’re a signal that a migraine attack is imminent. For me, my auras are small twinkling lights that float in my vision. They aren’t dramatic, and they rarely last more than a few seconds—never more than 30 seconds. I don’t always see an aura before a migraine, but if I do see one, I will get a migraine.
So instead of taking it at the beginning of the headache itself, as with most triptans, Ubrelvy is taken when the aura appears.
Yesterday, I saw an aura and took a dose of Ubrelvy. I never developed the migraine. That alone feels like a victory.
Ubrelvy has three potential—though still somewhat rare—side effects: nausea, sleepiness, and fatigue. Most people experience side effects within 30 minutes to an hour after taking a medication. However, because of my liver issues, medications can take longer to become effective or for side effects to appear. Some medicines, including Ubrelvy, are metabolized in the liver. When liver function is compromised, metabolism can slow down, which can delay both effectiveness and side effects.
That seems to be what happened with this dose.
About three to four hours after seeing the aura and taking the medication, I became very drowsy and fell asleep in the middle of reading a book. It took me a bit to fully wake up, but once I did, I seemed fine. Then last night, the drowsiness hit again. I fell asleep early and slept through the night—even through Isabella’s usual insistence on being fed.
I woke up at 4:00 a.m. when she made her presence known, but I went back to sleep. When I woke again around 4:30, I checked the time and made myself get up, feed her, and put on some coffee.
I’m awake now, but I could very easily lie back down and fall asleep again—even after being up for an hour.
I’m hoping this doesn’t last all day. I’ll drink my coffee, watch the news, and take a shower—all of which should help me wake up more fully. I was out of work Monday with a migraine, off yesterday, and I have an important meeting at 9:00 a.m., so I really need to be at work today. If this drowsiness continues, it may not be a full workday—but hopefully I’ll shake it off and get through.
I’ll likely make a strong cup of tea when I get to work this morning.
For now, though, I’m moving slowly and hoping the fog lifts soon.
To make up for how boring this post may have been, here’s Isabella’s Pic of the Week (with a little bit of me thrown in the mix):
In 1735, Benjamin Franklin wrote in Poor Richard’s Almanack:
“Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”
One thing I know for sure—he wasn’t correct about the “wealthy” part. And I’m not entirely convinced about the “healthy” and “wise” either.
Last night, I had one of the worst migraines I’ve had in a while. It had been building all day and finally came to a crescendo around 7:30 p.m. By 8:00, after taking my migraine medicine, I was asleep. That part, at least, would have made Mr. Franklin proud.
I woke up around 11:30 p.m.—thankfully without the migraine—but it took me over an hour to fall back to sleep. In fact, I was awake enough to finish reading a novella I’d started the day before. There’s something oddly satisfying about finishing a book in the quiet middle of the night, when the world feels paused and suspended.
Once I finished the novella, I did what many men do when they can’t sleep and nearly dozed off watching a particularly unexciting video that should have been stimulating but instead worked better than melatonin. I was awake just long enough to turn everything off and slip into dreamland.
You’d think falling asleep during that type of video might lead to some interesting dreams—perhaps something that wood be pleasant—but no such luck. The dreams were as boring as the video. In one, I was in the middle of a very colorful parade reminiscent of a Pride parade. Only it wasn’t a celebration—it was a protest. I never discovered what we were protesting, even though dream-me kept trying to find out. The other dream was so unremarkable that I can’t even remember what it was about.
I suspect the second dream was interrupted by Isabella wanting to be fed at 3:45 a.m. I successfully fended her off for about thirty minutes before surrendering. At that hour, resistance is futile.
Now I’m writing this post with a slight headache lingering, contemplating whether I should just go back to bed.
I’m technically off work today because of a scheduling error I made and decided not to correct. Officially, I’m “at a doctor’s appointment at Dartmouth.” It had originally been a Botox appointment until they shortened the interval between shots from twelve weeks to ten. Since I do actually have a headache, the sick leave for the first part of the day still applies. I was planning to take vacation time this afternoon anyway.
So here I am—early to bed, early to rise—and not feeling especially healthy, not remotely wealthy, and certainly not particularly wise.
Perhaps Mr. Franklin should have added a footnote:
“Results may vary. Especially for those with migraines, midnight reading habits, and insistent cats.”
There’s not much more to say today. I woke up with a migraine and some stomach pains, and my body is making it very clear that it’s not up for much of anything.
Sometimes the only responsible thing to do is listen when your body says, enough. So that’s what I’m doing. No deep thoughts, no long reflections—just rest.
I’m going back to bed and hoping that sleep does what sleep so often can: reset, restore, and heal.
I’m so glad it’s Friday — and even more glad that I’m working from home today.
It’s not that this week has been terrible. The early part of it was a bit rough, but once I settled into a project and stayed busy, things evened out. Sometimes the best remedy for stress is simply having something meaningful to focus on.
That said, I have zero desire to go anywhere today. I woke up with a headache, which almost certainly means a storm is rolling in this evening. My migraines are usually more accurate than the local meteorologist when it comes to predicting the weather. If my head starts throbbing, you can safely assume precipitation is on the way.
Isabella has already been fed and is currently enjoying her very important post-breakfast nap. She takes that ritual very seriously. Since the house is quiet and I have the luxury of being home, I think I might follow her example and go back to sleep for a little while before officially starting my day.
Sometimes listening to your body is the most productive thing you can do.
I hope you all have a restful, peaceful weekend — whether you’re braving the storm or staying cozy inside.
There’s something quietly powerful about a shower. It’s such an ordinary part of our routine that we rarely stop to think about how much it does for us beyond simple cleanliness. But the truth is, a shower can invigorate, restore, and even heal in ways we sometimes take for granted.
If you’re like me and usually step under the water first thing in the morning, it becomes a ritual of renewal. The warmth, the sound, and the sensation of water hitting your skin have a way of waking the body more gently than any alarm clock. It’s a moment to start fresh, to clear away the last traces of sleep, and to steel yourself for the day ahead. On mornings when you feel sluggish or unfocused, a shower can be just the pick-me-up you need to get moving.
But showers do more than energize. They can be deeply healing, too. When you’re fighting off a cold or just feeling run down, the steam can open your breathing and make you feel like you’re cleansing from the inside out. After a workout, the water soothes tired muscles and helps your body begin to recover. Even when I have a migraine, standing under a steady stream can take the edge off the pain and ease the tension in my neck and shoulders. There’s a comfort in that simple act of letting the water run over you, as if it’s carrying away the strain.
And then there’s the end-of-day shower. That one feels different. It’s slower, calmer. It washes away the stress, the frustration, the lingering weight of whatever the day has thrown at you. By the time you step out, your body is relaxed, your mind is quieter, and sleep comes more easily. It’s restorative in the truest sense.
Of course, there’s one other thing a shower is famously good for. When your mind won’t stop wandering somewhere it probably shouldn’t, a brisk turn of the dial to cold has a way of bringing you right back to your senses. It’s amazing how quickly clarity can return when the water gets just a little bit icy.
A small word of advice, though: shower sex can sound hot—and sometimes it is—but it can also be risky. Water washes away lubrication, and many lubes aren’t suited for use in the shower, which can lead to discomfort or irritation. Add in slippery surfaces, tight spaces, and awkward footing, and it’s easy to lose your balance or end up with a fall instead of a good time. Sometimes it’s better to keep it simple—washing each other’s bodies and letting your hands roam can be hot and intimate enough all on its own.
Now, I’m off to take my shower. Have a great day, everyone!
I woke up again in the middle of the night with a migraine. I was able to take some medicine and get back to sleep, but when I woke up this morning, it was still there—lingering and stubborn. My throat is still sore too, so I made a cup of tea with honey to try to soothe it before heading out.
If I didn’t have two important things to take care of at work today—things I can’t really hand off to anyone else—I would probably call in sick. I’ll give my VIP tour first thing this morning and finish a few preparations for next week’s program. After that, if I’m still not feeling better, I’ll head home and rest.
I’m hoping the migraine eases as the morning goes on. Fingers crossed that everything goes as planned—and that if I need to leave once the priority work is done, I can do so without a problem.
I woke up in the middle of the night with a migraine—something that rarely happens. I was able to fall back asleep, but the headache lingered into the morning. On top of that, my throat feels raw and sore, and yesterday my voice wasn’t very strong. I kept feeling like I couldn’t quite project at a normal volume. I’m drinking some hot tea this morning in hopes of soothing my throat and giving my voice a little help. I’m hoping whatever this is passes quickly.
I have a follow-up dentist appointment this afternoon for the root canal I had last month, and I’m not putting that off. More importantly, tomorrow morning I’m giving a VIP tour of the museum. My guest is a nationally known political figure—no, not Bernie—but someone a bit more controversial.
It’s encouraging to know the university asked me to lead the tour. After more than ten years of giving tours at the museum, I should be able to handle it. I’ve led generals and admirals (both U.S. and international), diplomats, and politicians through our galleries. Years ago, a visit like this might have made me nervous. Not anymore. I know the collection. I know the stories. And honestly, I look forward to these opportunities.
Now I just need my voice to cooperate so I can give the kind of tour they’re expecting.
Some days don’t arrive with an argument or an insight. They just show up.
Today is one of those days. The week is halfway over, which somehow feels both reassuring and slightly disorienting. I’m off tomorrow, though I’ll be working Saturday, so the usual rhythm of the week feels a little skewed—time folded in on itself.
Work today is steady but manageable. There are several things I need to get done, but nothing especially heavy or consuming—just the kind of tasks that move projects along without demanding all of my attention.
Thursday will be simple and practical. A short doctor’s appointment to finish something we couldn’t quite wrap up earlier in the week. Nothing dramatic, just a loose end being tied. After that, Planet Fitness—probably just thirty minutes on the treadmill. No grand workout plan, no pushing limits. Just walking, moving forward, letting my thoughts drift while the minutes pass.
I usually read while I’m on the treadmill. It makes the time go faster and keeps my mind from constantly checking in with that familiar question—how much longer? When I’m absorbed in a page or two, my body seems to take care of itself. I don’t think as much about balance or movement; I just keep going.
The part of the day I’m most looking forward to comes later: spending the afternoon with an older male friend I don’t get to see nearly often enough. We usually talk nonstop—about books, art, history, museums, and whatever else the conversation wanders into. Those kinds of conversations are their own kind of nourishment.
Not every day needs to be productive in obvious ways. Not every post needs a point. Some days are about maintenance—of the body, of routines, of friendships. And that’s enough.
Sometimes, halfway through the week, showing up quietly is its own accomplishment.
I have a doctor’s appointment today. Just a routine checkup—nothing to worry about. I always enjoy seeing my doctor. He’s very kind and, frankly, very good-looking (hence part of the blog title). Since I still have vacation time to use before the end of May, I took this morning as sick leave and this afternoon as vacation. So: no work for me today.
Last night, I had another one of my steamy dreams.
Earlier in the evening, I’d been thinking about a vacation I’m planning in April. I know I’ll be going to several gay bars, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll finally get some relief for whatever these dreams are trying to tell me. The dream began with that trip… and then drifted back to my office.
Several years ago, when I was briefly on Grindr, I was messaged by a young man. As we chatted, I realized he was a student. Any sexual relationship with a student—even an online one—is grounds for immediate dismissal, so I told him why I was hesitant to continue the conversation. That’s when he calmly said he knew who I was because he used to be a student worker at the museum.
The restrooms are in the same entrance area as the reception desk where our student workers usually sit. He told me that every time I walked into the restroom, he fantasized about me fucking him in one of the stalls.
He never showed me his face, but he had a fantastic body—and an impressive dick. I didn’t believe him at first. I was heavier then, badly out of shape, and at least twenty years older than him. But he said I was his type. He liked older, larger men.
We even made plans for him to come to my apartment. He never showed, which was probably for the best.
Later, I realized who he was from the student workers we’d had. After standing me up, he returned to work at the museum and seemed more comfortable around me than before. I noticed him looking at me when he thought I wasn’t watching. We never spoke about Grindr, and I never let on that I knew who he was.
That May, he graduated, joined the Marines, and disappeared from my life.
Which brings me to the dream.
In the dream, it’s seven years later. He shows up at the museum and comes into my office. He asks if I remember him. I say of course I do. He asks if we can close the door.
Once it’s shut, he reminds me of that Grindr conversation—the student who used to fantasize about me. I tell him I remember. It’s not something you forget. He says he’s always regretted not coming to my apartment and that he’s sorry he stood me up. He’s nearly in tears.
I stand up and hug him. He melts into me and tells me how hard it was seeing me every day for the rest of that school year. Then he straightens himself and asks if he can take me to dinner that night. He’ll be in town for a few days.
We meet at his hotel at six and go to a nice Italian restaurant. The conversation is awkward at first, but then it flows. I ask about the Marines. About MMA. I knew he’d won a regional tournament when he was in college.
At the end of dinner, I try to pay, but he insists.
Back at his hotel, he invites me up. As soon as the door shuts behind us, he presses me against it and kisses me—hungry, urgent, like he’s been holding this in for years.
For once, I don’t wake up before the dream gets to the good part.
I give him exactly what he’s been wanting all these years.
And then something strange happens: I start to wake up, but the dream doesn’t stop. My body is in bed, but my mind is still there—still walking out of his hotel room, still feeling the echo of his hands on me, already imagining the next time I’ll see him.
I wake fully just as my dream-self is leaving his room, hard and flushed, caught in that half-awake haze where desire lingers even after the scene ends.
Eventually, things settle down and I drift back to sleep—though not before Isabella notices I’m awake around 2:30 a.m. She makes a halfhearted attempt to get me up for food, then decides my hip will do just fine and curls back up with me.
P.S. For anyone unfamiliar with the reference, “Dr. McDreamy” comes from Grey’s Anatomy, where it’s used as a nickname for a devastatingly handsome doctor… and if you’re going to have a hot doctor and a sex dream in the same post, you might as well commit to the bit.
Joe
The Closet Professor 