I haven't shot a single photograph since the operation, everything I've been running has been culled from my files, photographs that were missed the first time around. I need to get out and start shooting. Just as soon as I catch my breath. A sign, maybe, this recovery isn't going as quickly as I thought. Not to worry. I still have ten days of recuperation left before I return to the office. I will undoubtedly be ready by then to scale mountains, swim oceans, fling bull like a Congressional candidate. Moan.

Just returned from the local 7-11 look alike with a paper. This recovery thing is not over yet. Feel tired in a way I don't remember feeling before and I assume it's the body saying it has things to do before its interested in walking down the street so it can buy a newspaper. Sure, have it delivered, but read it in bed. I was going to send an email to our HR department saying yes, I will indeed be back on the 30th, please mention this to payroll (OK?) and I am going to send this email to our HR department, but tomorrow. Maybe Monday. Maybe my compatriots at work know something I don't. I learned that MSJ's father had a prostate operation some months before mine and he's still feeling pretty punk. Groan.

So you've gotten to the moan-groan. Anything else to impart?

Guess not. I ordered the computer for the firewall. A storm coming, the wind is starting to howl. We've had something like a million people lose power at one time or another in the bay area during these last few storms. The LED's on my VCR are still flashing, although I've pretty much reset everything else. One thing about the computer revolution, I've got surge suppressors on everything, these days, including my dick.

Mumble.