Detachment

I be far from certain, but I might risk the sin of pride in my handling of this project. Comitting acts of superstisious gesticulations as I type. For sure I willnae risk that sin in front of a Marketing Killing Box Review, but here in the privacy of my grief, I will risk it. Don't accuse me of knowledge, but I sincerely believe my current distress is the natural result of grief. From the project end, it was pretty much business as usual with my husband's family. I be clueless how my husband and in-laws do business with other folk, but it is par for how my business with them has unfolded for 37 years. Don't care to retell those confusions just now.

The piece I am attempting to sort now feels like a project summary. Survey complete. The clients have the info. Time to move on.

Sorting. . .

Fact: Appetite fragile, but food going and staying down. Colon pain present but manageable. Responding well to guit-chi.

Fact: Sleep is uneven but happening. No nightmares so far.

Fact: Memory checks running approximately 65%. Still an "F" in the U.S. academic standard, but not too shabby for this chronic nutjob. Thank God there are no finals or Killing Box presentations today.

Guit-chi issuing some complete songs from random "bins" in my repertoire. Incomplete attempts falling apart abruptly on both guitar and voice. Scales rough. Rhythms uneven. Lyrics flowing.