Breakfast was about as good as it gets.

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I skipped toast.  Ham, eggs, and hashbrowns were cooked and eaten.  It is light enough that dinner is possible.  I'm really liking the non-stick pan.  It's not so great for omelets, too small.  I'll have to get a larger one, and I will probably go with All-Clad.  There are cheaper pans out there, that will work, but knowing which one is as lasting is difficult.  The design, after a little experience, is easy to see.  The pan I have now will work for eggs almost anyway I want to do them, but has the wrong sort of lip and non-stick surface for pan flipping.  Flipping food in the pan isn't just for looks or kicks.  It speeds things up and there are a few other reasons.

Still a bit sore.  Still a bit rough.  Still not much going.  I can't really complain.  That was a serious hit.  I am not actually worried about dying, for a number of reasons.  First, I am not going to die for a long time.  Still, I cover my bases.  I've been wrong before.  Still, on this, I am almost absolutely certain that without outside... help... I'm not going to die.  Next, I'm not that lucky.  While I do believe I deserve death, both on the bad side of that notion, and the good, it isn't mine to obtain until what I am here to do is done.  It's just the way of it.  Yes, I'll be whining, in some form or another, for decades.  Put me in your calendar.  Finally, I think, in the short and temporary, it's about suffering.  I thrive on the shit.  In a way, my body has internally taken over my old notions of pushing things to the limits.  I live on the limit, and beyond.  I thrive on what hurts, or kills.  Well, I've got it.  It feeds me, now that I see the condition rightly. 

I'll try, again, to do some things.  Load the trash and recycling out.  Take a shower.  I've already eaten once, but might try to do so again.  I might even take some pain pills, after nearly a week without.  Just enough to possible take the edge off, and maybe see me to more than what I suggest.  Or at least to what I have put on the schedule.  Don't know, can't really care, there isn't enough... enough... to do more than plot and hope.  All good.  Later.