Having a trough. Not as bad as
this poor pussy cat. In fact this afternoon I was beginning to suspect myself of malingering, then failed to be able to conduct a simple conversation about possibly getting together with
shellshear. Will simply have to wait for neurons to knit back together.
Weirdly, written language seems much easier to handle than spoken, I suppose because it's not in real time. I wrote 1000 words, albeit very slowly, and yesterday was able to blog crap even when I wasn't capable of anything else besides sitting in the same position for minutes at a time.