So, Monday the floor installers were here to put in new hardwoods due to our “little flood.” Two men showed up around 9:30 am. Very friendly and professional. Mom and I had spent the previous week boxing and/or bagging what we could to help. We emptied out China closets and hutches, gave away a ton of items to Salvation Army, and moved what we could. I was already in 9+ pain from the additional exertion. My back was in spasms, my hip was on fire, and my poor head was begging me for some relief. I took my usual meds and threw in some Advil for an additional boost. I was welcoming, good-natured, and smiling at the workmen. Then, it began. Hammering, sawing, nail guns, compressors, doors slamming, loud voices, etc. Even my noise-cancelling headphones didn’t help. These nice people, who were only doing their job were on my shit list. They invaded my safe place, my bubble, my sanctuary. I had no where to go. I had to wait it out. 3 days. Seems like nothing. It was hell on earth for me. I took extra pain meds. I tried relaxation techniques. The noise was piercing my brain. Finally, I cried. It hurt so badly. Daytime nightmare. I know it sounds like I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. If you are a fellow migraine sufferer, you understand how noise, light, smells are amplified 1000%. They were finally done and everything looks beautiful. But as they packed up for the last time, I admit I was beyond thrilled to get back to my reality. Where I’m in control of my surroundings. I let out a huge sigh of relief. Until Mom said, “What do you think about redoing the kitchen?” Arrrggghhhh! Carrying on. Always keep fighting!