For a couple of days I’ve been doing hands-on, arms-engaged, legs-revved up chores on two different floors. Yes, I could have said stairs. I want to go back and revise the first sentence to eliminate the unintentional rhyme, but somehow it has put a thought in my head: Back off the keyboard, sister, or your fingers get it. It’s too early to argue, and I am too sore and stiff. Old muscles, dontcha know? I’m waiting for the aspirin to kick in.

Not that I’m not glad it’s morning – officially by the clock that says seven in the dark. I was glad to really wake up from my dream of trusted people terrorizing me. I “woke” once during the dream, but I was still dreaming and when things continued as they had been, I held my head and was terribly distraught. Sometime later I did awaken, but I didn’t trust it for the first few seconds.

Then I was relieved, greatly so; but I am stiff and sore. That I can handle . . . well, Bayer and I can handle.