Its intensity has waxed and waned over the past five days, but my headache is becoming as familiar to me as an annoying old friend. Just when I think it’s gone, it crops up again, and I’m beginning to get worried. It’s creeping out into the rest of my life. I find myself a bit more irritable, a lot less productive, significantly less willing to live in the moment and be grateful for what I have. The solution? The old standby: fake it ’til I make it. In this spirit, I’m making dinner for my boyfriend, going to the meeting he chairs, and then heading out for an evening doing something that does NOT involve sitting on the couch and feeling sorry for myself. And I might — just might — treat myself to the midnight showing of Sex and the City at the Davis, even though The Green-Eyed Boy offered to go with me after the opening hoopla slows down. In the mean time, I have until 5pm to be grumpy, and I’m heading off now to wallow by candlelight in the bathtub with my new ylang ylang bubbles.