I make a cup of strong, hot coffee and swallow three ibuprofen, to fortify myself against the headache that sometimes comes pounding out of left field after the visual disturbances subside.
The squiggle gets larger, turning into a pulsating snake of interconnected, multicolored triangles. It engulfs my entire field of vision from the left side to my right. All I need is the strains of Jefferson Airplane's White Rabbit piped in to feel like I'm on a bonafide acid trip.
Now I'm typing through the psychedelia, pretty much unable to see the keyboard or the words appearing on the screen. The snake undulates and jumps, slowly retreating out of my line of vision. Sunlight suddenly streaming through the window next to me hurts like hell and I think I'll retreat into the cool darkness of the living room and a comfy armchair to wait it out.