Henckels Professional "S" 5 1/2 Flex. Boning Knife

Two long days, finally over. Ahhh. I know it sounds pitiful, that two days of moderate activity should take such a toll -- ask me, though, whether I care!

A great plan has been hatched -- thanks mostly to my intrepid orthopedic surgeon, the famous Dr. Shoulderman. He has tracked down a colleague who specializes in people with weird joint infections... and said person just happened to have recently relocated within a three-hour drive of Marlinspike Hall, deep deep in the Tête de Hergé.

In other words, if said person can work the promised miracles... there won't be a tiresome trek to Baltimore. Think good thoughts, cross your digits, do whatever it is that you do.

I remain... the same. In my mind, I feel worse, I feel desperate... but no, I am not worse. I am consistently bad. What makes me feel desperate is the stress of unrelieved pain, sleep in spurts of 45 minutes or less, and fear.

Sometimes I think seeing Dr. Go-To-Guy every 3 to 4 weeks, emailing him weekly, is definite overkill.

And then I realize how blessed I am, because between those appointments and the back-and-forth of emails, my anxiety is kept at bay, and the little sanity I have is preserved. He knows my hold on reality is becoming... let's say... tenuous.

Do you know what I did last night?

Of course you don't!

Intending to get some fresh water in my trusty Hillary Clinton for President water bottle (holds over 32 ounces!), I wheeled to the kitchen sink, unscrewed the top, and proceeded to dump the "old" water on the floor.

Yep.

Listen, when I get beaucoup tired, as well as beaucoup sick? Weird doings, strange goings-on.

We are still looking for our Henckels Professional "S" 5 1/2 Flexible Boning Knife -- that I absconded with during a night of fever and sweats.

As well as about three spoons.

When mind and body decide to merrily decompensate -- I have a thing, apparently, for culinary items.

We even went through the trash, searching for the boning knife. Hmm.