The most observant readers of my blog will have noticed that I changed the format. I had felt for a couple of weeks that that groovy, dark blue layout with the multi-coloured dots was making my eyes do bad things. My eyes were freaking out every time I was looking at my blog. I figured that the colours were a little too dazzling for me, and probably for you, too.

So I decided to change the template to something more plain and perhaps more reader-friendly. The ever-observant Josie immediately saw the change, and sent a witty comment my way.

But my eye-saving change brought an unforeseen and unwanted side-effect: I lost all my comments. I think that I was using haloscan for the commentary, but even with Xine's help, I still haven't been able to resintall. I hope, one day, to retrieve everyone's witty comments. Truly, I would be nothing without them.

And now, a few days after I changed the format and lost all my comments, I realize that my eye problems may have had nothing to do with the template. Last Friday turned from bad to worse when I suffered a sudden onset migraine while volunteering with Meladuck at the Western Magazine Awards headquarters. I had driven in to Vancouver, and was therefore stranded while my eyes did wondrous things that prevented me from getting behind the steering wheel.

It seemed like the room was filled with spinning fans in the periphery of my vision. There was no way that I could even think of getting into my car to drive the 45-60 minute (not minuet) drive home. I had to sit on Sherry's couch and wait for the swirling to subside. When it did, my headache was increasing, as was my nausea. I bid a swift adieu, and bolted. Still hoping to cash in on the "let's go to Starbucks" conversation that we'd had earlier in the day, Meladuck followed me out the door. I felt so bad when I told her that I had to skip the Starbucks this time around. The thought of piling sugar and caffeine on top of my headache made me ill. I just hopped into my car and sped off.

I almost made it home without incident. But the nausea climaxed ironically at the turnoff for alive's spiteful offices. So I found myself puking into a handy plastic bag just down the road from the place that had so meanly inflated my ego, and then stuck it with a giant pin. Don't think that I wasn't tempted to deposit my spillage on their doorstep. However, I was still far from home and still nauseous. I kept my plastic bag just in case.

I'm glad that I did. After waiting a tortuous amount of time to get onto the Patullo Bridge, I almost made it home before the nausea hit again. I ended up asking a lot of that handy little plastic bag after contributing more spillage.

Even though I didn't think I'd ever make it home, I did. I grabbed a couple of pills, and went to bed. I slept for 10 hours.

This is another tale that can be added to my short story collection, so aptly titled Secretions by the ever-observant Josie. I'll get to writing that once the nausea has passed.