No, my current inner monster is not the parasite of the unborn child, but an acute flare-up of premature bodily decline. Things fall apart in the autoimmune-challenged. Blogs waver. Meetings are re-scheduled. Lamentations are written. Weird little six year-olds ask their daddies, "Why do Mommy's eyes look like the sky when it thunders?"
Never take for granted the following:
*the smoothe swivel of a working joint
*verterbrae T2-7 and all they do for you
*being able to plan more than an incubation period ahead
*blissful ignorance of your perfectly functioning innards
Anyway, that's my Tuesday. Lucky for you, the mind is usually the last to go on an ivalid like me, so you can still count on being able to read my blog for a gooood loooong while (I am taking a chance here with the word "lucky," as people who have come to "live preciously in the moment" are wont to do).
And don't forget to enjoy your innards!