I'm not doing much new. Rereading books, rewatching old tv series. Knitting. making the same motions, over and over and over. Up stairs. Down stairs.
The supermarket delivery bloke was from Scotland this time. Never the same one twice. Chatty, which makes a change.
It's all just so slow. People keep asking "how's the leg doing?" as if I can see it getting better, but I can't see anything. It's just as much of a mystery to me.