Recovery. Slow.

I am slowly moving out of the abyss of utter depression. I no longer contemplate hurtling myself in front of a speeding semi. (Not to worry, part of the thought process included the stark realization that I would have to toddle all the way up to the highway to find a fast moving truck: way more work than I deemed appropriate, under the circumstances.) I have discontinued the ritual of crying myself to sleep. I can finally view a feathered creature without emitting a wretched howl of pain. Life is returning to normal.

And there is only 229 days, 9 hours and 14 minutes until the 2011 season begins.