Chores.

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Done, almost as I finished writing?  Before?  I... can't remember.  But, finished right around that time.  Then the girls.  Their food and litter.  I think I even did get their water tended.  Popcorn, for dinner.  Rare, but it happens.  Not enough, or the right, food.  Planning on frying the burger.

Actually, getting to the frying is the next hurdle.  Hopefully I can get that done, then get on to the rest of dishes.  Probably just pulling them, so as to take a shower.  Then, put them back, get some of them started, and get back to the floor in there.  I keep trying.  And, so far, failing.  So tired.  Restarted meds, it killing me.

The warmth, of weather, is back.  It doesn't chase much past sun down, but it isn't getting cold, or even really cool, yet.  And for now, I am grateful for that.  I actually can handle the upper 70s to low 80s well.  I suspect much above 70 and I begin to imperceptibly slow down.  At 80, I'm not moving fast or well, but feel okay.  Much as when it cools.  When it hits, say, 50, I can really begin slowing.  The difference is, when it gets cooler, I can add clothes, layers, types of items, which keep me warmer.  With the trick being to stay warm without overheating... and needed to wash and change clothes more often, with sweat and else becoming an issue, in a different way, and in specific areas.

Yea.  This fall and winter I am hoping to manage my layering better.  To keep myself at a working temperature, healthier, and as fit as possible.  I would like to figure out how to do more, in the cold, than I can do in the heat.  But there will always be limits, especially as age catches up to health, doubling the saddlebagging of ill health.  Still... I'll... keeping doing what I can.

Someone, in a dream, asked me if combat requires strength, great strength.  They were questioning my capacity to war.  I had to laugh.  I asked them how many fights they had been in, or how much combat they had experienced.  Well, never, not yet, I was told.

Ah, that is the truth of it, I said.  One, or even seven to ten fights, and you might still believe strength is the main thing.  Dozens, scores, and... by then a real vet... you realize that combat and hand to hand only utilize strength to a degree.  Size does matter.  Reach, mass, a few other things come into play.  As with strength.

Further, with experience, lots of it, you realize agility, focus, knowing how to take and give pain, these are vastly more important.  I myself question my ability.  It has been a very long time.  I think the last time I smashed a human was in... the mid 1990s.  He struck me, three times in the back of the head, obviously from behind.  I turned, and even trying not to hurt him, put him in the hospital for a week or two... with three punches.

Still, that has been a very long time ago.  But, it had been... about that long since my last thrashing handed out, to some other foolish human.  Oh, he was about my size, if I had him by 50 pounds and an inch or two.  Still... comparable.  I was both, I suspect, born and developed the thrash.  Even so, age... may have dulled my skills.  But, as mentioned, strength isn't where it is at.  Having absolute strength superiority is good, but it won't do well against a tried and well experienced vet, cut loose to kill.

Oh, and if I am faced with such a strength, I won't... struggle... against that.  I will shatter his parts before he can finagle that against me.  I don't fight, anymore, if required.  I will, however, if possible, kill... if totally outclassed in some way.  If... I can.  And if I have no choice.  Don't... press luck, is what I suggested to So-and-who-zits.  

And, it... wasn't just the answer for the dream.

Anyway... on to something.  First to clear and clean a pan, and a space to cook.  Then, while cooking, opening up the tub for a shower, then eating.  And, finally, putting some dishes to soak and getting ready to hit the bathroom.  Oh... and opening up the freezer top.  Gah!  I can... hope.  Later.