Today's main feeling is definitely one of fuzziness. I'm not feeling particularly well and I'm not feeling particularly ill either. Weird really. It's as if I'm on the cusp of feeling ill but not quite there. Much like treading water would be, I suppose, if I could even swim. The cold is a little better though and I'm rather less husky than I was yesterday. Though when I attempted to go for a lie-down this afternoon, I didn't get very far due to Snorty-Nose Syndrome. Ah well. I can only hope I'm better at breathing tonight when I try for the sleep option. Perhaps a quick Lemsip is called for ...
I've done a hell of a lot of puzzles from both my puzzle books though, so that's been fun. And the first of my three remaining plasters has come off - the one on the back of the hand, which is apparently part of the anaesthetic process, but Lordy knows how exactly - and it appears to be all healed up, hurrah. So I haven't replaced that. This leaves me with two plasters and one dressing, both in the stomach area. My goodness, what a lot of holes the poor dears had to make indeed. The mind definitely does the proverbial. I think I shall leave tackling those till later in the week when I may be feeling stronger. I do have replacements if need be. But for now they seem fine. Strangely the left shoulder is still rather numb, but causing me less angst than yesterday, I must admit. I was prepared for shoulder pain - which they'd warned me about - but not the loss of sensation. At least the pins and needles thing has gone. My, what fun recuperation is, my dears!
I've also - shock! horror! probe! - actually done some writing to Hallsfoot's Battle. Another thousand words indeed, which came far more smoothly than anticipated, so I'm now at 44,005 words. Or thereabouts. I'm dealing with the difficult relationship between Annyeke and her grandmother now - funny how much I'm taking from my relationship with my own grandmother, ho ho. The old biddy would not, I suspect, be overly-pleased. But if being an author doesn't give me the power to take a kind of literary revenge, then what the hell use is it, tee hee. Besides Annyeke does grow to respect her, even if things weren't too good in childhood between them - and, much like myself, is probably well on the way to even becoming that same old biddy. Goddammit. Grandmothers always have the last laugh after all ...
And I must say how absolutely horrible all the judges were - even Uncle Len! - on last night's Strictly Come Dancing. I found them hugely upsetting. Why do they have to make people cry? It's unnecessary. Mind you, that said, Cherie and James' rhumba was the best dance I've seen in a long, long time - incredibly beautiful and strong. It certainly deserved all those 9s and to my mind should have had a 10 in there as well. Maybe two 10s. Shame on the judges that they didn't take that step. I'm definitely voting for Cherie - Austin had better watch out!
Tonight, there's the start of a new series - the last one ever, apparently, groan ... - of Frost, so I'll be glued to that. But I'll also be videoing the programme about Alastair Campbell's breakdown. From 20 years ago, I know what it's like to have a meltdown experience, so I'm all for programmes that bring mental health out into the open. Good for them. It should definitely be more talked about - and well done, Mr C, for allowing the programme to be made.
This week's haiku:
Beyond my window,
small birds weave bright medicine.
I wait for a cure.
Today's nice things:
1. Getting rid of one plaster
3. Writing more of Hallsfoot