Thursday. A long, if not decent, night's sleep. Up with the alarm taking each step slowly, feeling a little wobbly, but OK. Should I be going to breakfast in the mornings, maybe stay in bed and sleep until whenever, would that make for a better recovery? Life?
Anyway, off to the usual place to have orange juice, a sliced orange with watermelon and cantaloupe (their usual brought without asking thanks for being a good customer start to a meal) and a waffle with fruit. I wasn't able to eat but half of the waffle with fruit, the stomach suggesting I not let anything come near it for a while.
OK, back home to take a nap, an hour's nap, feel a little better, the day starting over (and better). Are we in good shape for the day? Well, we're in some shape, we'll count the fingers and the toes later.
You counted them yesterday.
I believe the numbers I came up with were very similar.
Later. Three hours (on and off) of sleep later. The lungs have loosened up, they're feeling better. A nice bright sun out there, I'm thinking I may have to talk myself into going outside. And I'm getting hungry. Not finishing your breakfast has consequences, a stomach not willing to eat anything in the morning is now ready to accept suggestions. Or something like that.
Later still. Another hour's nap. I think I've now caught up. A walk to get an ice cream cone and a box of Good & Plenty, a nice Valentines Day mix. Sugar on top of sugar (with a little licorice for levity).
Evening. Nothing on television at six. I tried three or four Netflix movies I've looked at in the past, but bombed out on each and every one. I've considered one of the old movies I have on the shelves, something to commemorate a Valentines Day, but I'm kidding myself. Time for bed.