The sort of twinge that warns, "If you don't take migraine-grade meds NOW, I will grow in size until your eyeballs throb at the slightest exposure to light or quaver of sound."
I could come up with a whole list of reasons why I have it. I'm always good at coming up with reasons. Not enough caffeine, too much caffeine, not enough sleep, not drinking enough water, not eating wisely enough, not enough silence to decompress, avoiding household chores, feeling an energy crash post-heavy exposure to children's chattiness...
See? I told you I'm good at reasons.
Usually I want reasons so I can address them, make sure that this combination of circumstances never happens again to put me in a negative or less-than-good place. Reasons to help me believe I can control something I cannot.
My unwitting attempts to control happen a lot, too.
This reminds of God's words to Cain after the murder of Abel: "Sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have mastery of you." It reminds me of God's consequence for Eve after eating the fruit: "Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you."
Both of these desires are not friendly, affectionate, cuddly sorts of things. They are desires for control, for things to go the way the desirer wants them to go.
My answer to my desires of this sort have to take a backwards approach. If I try to control my desires to control, I seem to make the problem worse, so... I'm trying to stop finding end-all-and-be-all solutions.
Which leaves me with... I have a headache.
Thinking of Chuck Swindoll's observation that life is 1% what happens to me and 99% how I respond to it, I shall take my headache, put away the mountains of clothing (clean AND folded, miraculously enough!) that occupy my bed, and maybe take a quick nap after that.