Somewhere between a demitasse spoon and a mason jar's worth.

Of what? you ask. Relief. Pure, sweet, simple relief. I noticed after the fact that the eight steps up from the parking level to the entry into our building had not caused my crabby hip to burst into flames. Same for the eight steps down at the end of the day, although historically down is hard on my ankles and knees, while up is hard on my hip and my lungs. I called the facility and left a quick message for my therapist.

In reading news, I've completed the re-read of The Library of the Unwritten. Tomorrow I'll begin the second book in the series, The Archive of the Forgotten. Theoretically, I could go back out to Diana and read until it gets dark, but that would involve putting on pants and a bra and shoes, and I'd rather not.

What I need to be doing, is beginning my talk for church on Sunday. A member of the bishopric caught me as I was leaving the facility last night and asked if I would speak on meekness and humility. I roared with laughter. Apparently I will be standing at the pulpit, talking to myself.

I love my Heavenly Father's sense of humor.