If all the animals on the equator were capable of flattery, then Thanksgiving and Halloween would fall on the same date.

Nobody says, "Hey, wanna hear a dull story the longest way possible?"
So asks the New York Post.
I'm not a Post reader, though it is succinct.

I've been thinking about writing here all week.
I've been having a hard time but, fortunately, I think I've nailed it down.




Day after day of commuting and working and commuting and sleeping, on three capsules of Lyrica daily, seems to have worn me down. I'd slip away from my desk to have a cry. I'd hear a song while riding the train and cry. K would bring me a cup of tea and I'd cry.
I spoke to the pain management doctor about it - I know it's helping me, I said, but I feel like I am far away, alone, in a a long tunnel and I am sad, I told him. I said I'd keep trying but I realized, sobbing at the office last week, that I couldn't continue. I'm back to two capsules a day and stopped crying on Thursday.




My hand, in wax and a plastic bag.
Back to PT!
Look! I am allowed to start the session with a hot paraffin treatment. I always wanted paraffin but was not able to withstand the heat. It's lovely. I want to drop my whole self in it.  Apparently my hand looks better than expected and we move forward with some added OT to help me be able to write and, you know, maybe do buttons!






Hampered by my winter coats (if there is anything else impeding my movement I get a little crazy) I purchased an inexpensive backpack when it became impossible to keep my tote bag on my parka covered shoulder. It's working out.




Twice in recent days I have had the pleasure of sitting across from this woman who I have deemed The Most Beautiful Young Woman On The Entire Railroad.
Nope. No idea who she is.
Last night, the guy sitting next to me left his blackberry on the train. When I brought it home Youngest discovered it is the very same blackberry left by the very same guy he returned it to last year.




They are, ever so slowly it seems, chipping away at the bricks at the top of our office building. Chipping and drilling and hammering. The noise is deafening. Like being at the dentist all day long.
Remarkably loud. It's part of a building reno which involves every floor but ours. Our lease is up soon and we could stay/move/stay and renovate. If we do anything but stay I will probably be involved in the reno or move and am hoping we do either.




Middle mixes cocktails.




bb perfects her fried eggs.

I have had a cold since, roughly, December 10th. I've been to the walk-in clinic twice and done a week of antibiotics when the cough got so bad that I pulled muscles in my side. Presently, I've got a nasty cold sore and am seeing my family doctor (who I've not seen since well before the accident) on Monday.
I have so much to tell her.

Feast/famine report on K's work: NO WORK. Famine. Some bites, but no work. Endeavoring to remain upbeat in the face of...well...you can imagine.

Report on the other men I live with: all well and good. Some in hibernating mode (Youngest, who returns to school later this month) some in social mood (I've not seen Middle for DAYS, Oldest busy visiting friends).

My thoughts for the new year - I was hoping it would be better. I'm still hopeful but wonder now how I could think it being a new year would make any difference.
Actively searching for my old optimistic self.