Progressively more alert as the hour grows late, doing some tidying in preparation for baking tomorrow, progressively more disciplined as it becomes clearer that I've been permanently damaged, semblance of functionality coming together nicely.

Boy, does my foot ever hurt.

Hoping I have no further dreams about disturbing phone calls, hoping ones I've already had are not prophetic in nature. Kind of kidding, but when I'm sufficiently afraid something bad is going to happen, it usually does. Nothing mystical about it, just astute, the mystical part comes in when I need to struggle along in the debris after and communion with pure form helps to take my mind off the shrapnel in my side.

Kidding, kidding, everything's great.