The smooth road back got a little rocky this afternoon, but I managed to stay on course to recovery. I don't feel quite as good as I thought I would (or wished I did), but I feel good enough to look forward to tomorrow for the first time in a week.

Oh, wait. Tomorrow's Monday. Strike that.

Today's achievements are modest, but at least I didn't sit all day with a blanket over my legs, which is how I've spent most of the last five days. I started with high hopes, because I woke up without that mushy feeling in my head. I could tell I wasn't fully recovered, but I could also tell that I'd improved noticeably.

So I tackled the pile of mail I've been saving since Wednesday, and then I started paying a few personal bills. That didn't take long, because I ran out of personal money before I could get very far. Even so, I could feel myself fading as I went along. At one point I stumbled into the corner of a shelf and scraped a big hole in my right arm.

Something was telling me not to overdo, so I gave up on my notion of getting caught up on all the work I've been putting off. In fact, I gave up on working on anything except getting better. That's a top priority, especially with a full week (and the first of the month) coming up. When Monday comes, I won't have a choice. On Sunday, I can afford to pace myself.

The gash in my arm will heal, but it was a sign that I need to watch myself and not try to do more than my body is ready for. I also need to watch what I eat, now that I'm getting an appetite again. I think I overdid it yesterday and paid for it with a midnight bellyache. Too much, too soon.