How do you feel, I am asked.
In a word (well, OK, three): Like a lump.
An uncomfortable interstitial location. Well enough almost to use the computer (like now). For the moment. Was well enough to bathe myself. Today. Was well enough to make tea. Today. But before I started typing this, I just sat there, blearily looking at the keyboard.
Like a lump.
Having to re-invent typing. The standard ASDF-JKL; on the home row presumes that there is a certain degree of control available within the fingers. As does touch-typing. Shows you how old I am, doesn't it, to even remember "touch typing" as a "thing" to be learned and done. Anyway, the more frequently I look away from the keyboard to look at the screen to see how I'm doing, the worse I do, the more mistakes get made. And then I look back at my fingers and mistakes keep getting made. Different ones, at least, but still, control is degrading. If worse comes to worst, I'll probably, probably, still be able to two-finger "type" well enough.
The new Mac mouse is working well, except the ball that enables one to scroll in many directions is so very sensitive that I keep over-scrolling, and then over-scrolling back, then over-scrolling again.
I just had to retype "over-scrolling" about six times, none of those times (this time) thanks to over-helpful auto-correct. Typing is getting ... crappy.
Off for a snack. If I'm gonna eat less "per dose," I've gotta eat more often. And definitely not "run dry," that story ends badly. Very, very darkly.
Had thought, last night, of musing spiritual on today's blog entry.
Cat is howling and tummy maybe, maybe, is signaling that it wants at least something.
Given how few sensations I get nowadays, best I should pay attention to what little I get.
More later. Or tomorrow. Or even later.