Right? I don't know.

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Dream.  The biting lyrics, it was indicated.  "No, this child will not suffer"?  Chidingly, if not just about that but on many fronts.  I was supposed to just fall, my face crumble into a scrunched sponge, and maybe cry.  I just laughed at the assault.  At one time, for most of my life, that would have worked.  Now?  I suffer gladly, as a gift for those in purgatory.  The pain, steep as it is even now, is no true burden, but an opportunity.  I would... do... lessen it as possible.  If curable, I would do it.  As is I live with it as a gift to the soul.  No choice.  While one can learn to live with pain, it shouldn't be sought.

Oh, about water.  Starting today, compression socks.  As well, I am hoping to restart the rosary.  It... may take a lot longer.  Focus is shot.  However, the secondary gift of doing the rosary is that I do that while in a resting position on the bed, and can use the wall to elevate my legs for at least an half hour.  I didn't do these things earlier because I couldn't think well.

Laundry will get a spin in a bit.  Dishes, just a small dish pan, will be hit too.  A bit of cleaning in the kitchen and bathroom is on the list.  Then bedding is to be changed.  Teeth brushing is back on the menu, as is foot care.  When I suggested I wasn't doing much?  Pretty literal.  I want to catch up, go a bit more, then rest and push in blocks.  I think I can.  Later.