Awake, but what to do.

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I do need to get to town.  I'm simply not sure I am up to it.  I reset the dishes to a fresh soak, bleeding off the dirty water, of course, beforehand.  I would like to get to the dryer, first thing, then the sink.  If I can knock those out of the park, then on to the dishes.  If I can do those, at least to a washed stage, get a shower in, and still be able to walk, I may make it to town.  If I had to guess, I would suggest that, even for normals, this is a 'probably not' or 'a distant maybe'.  Regardless, getting as much of that done as possible is the plan.

Figuring out how pillows are configured was important.  Sleeping off was as painful as anything else.  I am never sure how the pillows go wrong, I must shuffle them in my sleep.  Actually, I can handle a fairly wide range of variables with my pillows, and change them up once in a while for slight, or even no, reason.  But certain angels, too high or too low, and probably some other things such as being at the wrong, or an uneven, cant, can bring pain, headaches, and poor sleep.  When I am really ill, I might be getting that, but not be able to fathom the problem.  As sick as I am, even now, and this summer, it simply isn't like before, even if just by inches.  Those inches can mean the world.  The next time you are near a busy street or highway, look at the traffic path, now look closely at the outside edge.  Now look at what two, or even a single, inch can grant, or take away.  These inches I have gained are not in just one area.  I no longer starve and feast, I no longer miss (at least for long at all) cues that my body is in some sort of distress, and many other little things.  Pulling my bacon just this side of rendering is a big thing.  And, I am almost always aware of my environment.  Not much, always, I can do about it.  But I know... when it is rough, and how rough, and in what ways.  There is life, here, in this flesh, always, now.

Sam has been let out.  I know she actually prefers the outside, so long as she can come back in at her leisure.  I think I have, when I keep the litter box clean daily, convinced her that digging a new scratch spot outside daily is more hassle than it is worth.  And with food being so regular...  No, she still, and will always, love to hunt.  It isn't just the hunt.  It isn't just food.  It isn't just a kill.  It isn't just scratching instincts.  It is all of that and more.  She has been hungry, very hungry.  Probably more from cat food she stopped being able to tolerate, and having had kittens which have fed from her.  As such, knowing she can find food, and doing it, allows her some freedom of mind, and spirit, and makes up for deprivations in the past... in a way.

I still need a bit to wake.  Another cup of joe.  A few hours.  Then we will see what a mostly dead giant can do.  Later.