Sunday evening ramble

I enjoyed Constellation's production of "Gilgamesh" (though I agree with the reviewer that there was something missing; it didn't blow my mind the way "Ramayana" did). That said, it was fun to watch, and Tom Teasley's music was a joy as always. Also, there was nary a peep out of the audience, which is always a plus.

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Have you ever made a point to move on symbolically before you were ready to move on in actuality? It was in that spirit that I painted my nails. Which I can hardly pull off on a good day (I'm always cooking or pulling weeds or maybe even planting things, so the color chips almost instantly--and you can already see where one is chipped from when I put away the dishes), and having one fewer finger with which to paint my right hand made me very shaky. But I wanted to let the universe know that I'm ready to get back to normal.

The last week or so hasn't been bad (the week before was hell, more for the itching--and the waking up in the middle of the night for the itching--than for the wound). But now that the itching has so mercifully abated, the wound has a monopoly on my frustration. It itches as it heals. Even as I know how much worse it could have been, I just want it to seal up already. At least seal up to the point where I could let it air, because I'm convinced that keeping it covered is exacerbating the itching. It's also such an annoying, inconvenient wound: it's always a challenge to wrap up. That's all, I'll stop complaining.