Today was...better. I'm still wandering around thinking I've forgotten something: I haven't gone upstairs to get Bandit to bring him down, or need to bring him upstairs, haven't said hello to him, haven't let him out, haven't brought him to see the Pretty Bird in the Mirror. The house is eerily quiet: no calling, no singing, no crunch of seeds, no rattling of the bell, no sounds of the television he was watching. No need to put it on anymore.

My body's still reacting badly; we went back to the Brazilian buffet Jerry Lawson recommended, determined to try the grill. I had several pieces of delicious beef tenderloin and a little chicken--and then my digestion went to hell and I sat there as James finished more beef and some luscious looking pork tenderloin, queasy as all get out. He later went off to the IPMS meeting and I went to Harry's Farmer's Market and got myself a fresh-baked loaf of French bread, about all my tummy could take. It happens when I'm stressed anyway.

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 11:32:00 PM

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