spring

Each day is better than the day before. I'm clear-headed, all the parts seem to be moving normally; I'm getting back sensation in a lot of places. I can feel things on my fingertips again.

It's not quite daylight outside; the sun is just about up but it's still gray and overcast. The birds are squawking like crazy. One of them has a "whoop! whoop!" sound it makes, followed by a chirping cackle. I am shooting jet after jet from the espresso machine, and my daughter is lying on the couch, indulging in her slow morning afterburn.

It's a really good day.

And my brain seems to be working, even if it's not quite as clever as it used to be. I've just taken apart my cheap little battery-operated whisk thingy--the one that I use to froth my daughter's cocoa to coffee-house perfection every morning. It's a cheap little gizmo and explodes regularly, as it did today, to the consternation of my necrotic cells.

But this time I managed to put it back together. It's still not working, mind you, but at least it's screwed shut again.

And now I expect I shall throw it away, the piece of crap!