Emotionally: Over a week on the half dose of drugs, and my emotions are still in check. I've been a little bummed out that ants are spiteful when exterminated. Every morning I wake to half a dozen ants dead or dying on my kitchen sill. I can think of no reason for them to make the trek, if not to guilt me.
Physically: I feel like freshly microwaved death on a paper plate.
Financially: I have received all my purchases and I have made no more. I can tell you I need to make one more big purchase, and fast: our mattress is in its twenties. That's over a hundred in mattress years. So, my subscription to Consumer Reports proved useless. They recommended a Sleep Number bed (which we hated when we tried it on vacation) or a Tempurpedic, which I understand to be hell for menopausal women. (The foamy softness traps the heat, it would seem.) I suppose I can just check the tag and buy the exact same model.
Creatively: Does painting my fingernails count?
Adventurously: I had plans to try The Shaved Duck again and I decided not to go because it was raining. Wuss Factor 11.
Still, while I don't feel quite like myself, I can still deal with ant-guilt and reckless behavior without going off the deep end. Just counting time till I get back.