It seems as though I've written a lot of posts lately about illness and recovery. I suppose we could chalk it all up to bad luck, but I prefer to think of it as getting all the yuckiness done in one fell swoop.
I thought I'd let you all have at the never plain life of a convalescent.
We have recently been under siege by hundreds of tiny black ants that materialize from thin air no matter how many times we kill them off. They're like regenerating zombies from an RPG or something. Perhaps not, but they still give me the heebie jeebies. Em and I invented an ant trap from a rotting clementine, molasses, and the lid to a butter tub. Sadly, it was unsuccessful.
I've been working on this puzzle for over a week. Sometimes the kitties help by doing such things as throwing pieces off the table or experimenting with using the box as a bed.
I've gone back to my grade school days of practicing my handwriting. By the time I'm all better I plan to write beautifully with either hand I choose. In the meantime, some people my wonder why I am letting a four-year-old transcribe my letters.