Waking gently.

.
.
It's not so much a plan as a hope.  The machines are old in the down below.  They haven't been lit often or frequently.  The whole device groans under it's own weight.  Perhaps it was, or will be, brought to full and to bear.  For now I just need... to get the dishes done.  Oh, but I did start them.  And I will shortly finish them, take a shower, put a new load of dishes in, and start a load of laundry.  Running before I can stand, but, hopefully, not running faster than my feet.  It's always a precarious adventure.

Oh, don't mind me.  I love the risks, challenges, spills, and pains of life.  Tied up, loosed, or trying to just use one of the twelve cylinders.  It's a game, for now.  All pain, suffering, loss, joy, work, and play are bringing me to where all of those things may play a part in doing what comes next, here or there.  I have to assume that the greater these things, the more difficult the tasks.  Waking, though, is never easy.  But waking I am.

I think I can get my short list completed.  I'm not even trying to find cheats.  It is just happening.  A window, small or large, so long as I can fit through I'll go.  Later.