A slow Sunday morning, watching the magpies prance along the roof ridge. One holding something in it's beak, wiping it along the tiles. Jumping to its mate, and back again. And then, taking off and flying towards me in bed, through the patio doors, seeing it's shape from underneath as it landed on the roof above my head. Loud footsteps on the tiles, heavier than expected.
Being sensible and making progress, practising on one crutch. Back twisting at the moment.
Being useful again, a friend coming around and discussing management theories, rehearsing interview questions with her.
Being succesful again, but only at the computer game, nearly reaching a team target, leaving a little "work" for the morning.
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