at work

The first real day of recovery after an episode is like waking up after a really deeply cracked nightmare. There's all this adrenaline and energy and panic, but it feels good because you're awake and the monster is back in the closet and the sun is coming up ANY minute and you don't have to go back to bed. Then there's that little buzz, that nay-say voice that says, "yeah, but you can't stay awake *forever*."

Today's my first real day. Yesterday was better, but marginal. Today I'm not on the pain pills and I'm real and ready to get back to work.

Which, let me tell you, after eight days of zombification? Eeek! My to do list is longer than Santa Claus' Bad Republicans list. ;-)

Yesterday I went and bought a pair of good sewing scissors. Now, given all the money I've blown on weird things over the last thirty-mumble years, you'd think I would have just *bought* good scissors. No. That would be easy. Reasonable. Completely lacking in martyrdom. (yeah, yeah - I'm a dork.)

Still. Oooh. Scissors.