1:31 a.m. Today my syringes finally came in the mail. I've been so nervous and jumpy waiting for them. Checking out the window at the several places the UPS man could leave them, hoping the robber hasn't been back to grab them before I can get a chance to bring them inside, all safe and sound.

These are my very first syringes.

Sure, I've seen them on the beach, dancing in the surf, but I've never actually held one in my hands.

I didn't realize they were plastic, and that you'd have to assemble them, but I figured it all out in a very short time. The needle points sort of screw in and you have to be very, very careful with them or you'll pierce your Gel-eez arm rest and nuclear goo will spread across your desktop.

So, now my hands are all red and mottled, the syringes are drying out, and the mess is all cleaned up.

I believe I've successfully refilled four printer cartridges, two black, two multicolored. The directions, of course, were not worth reading. By following the directions closely, I had cyan ink squirting out the bottom of the cartridge and running down my arm in a veiny steam. The secret seems to be to use the tiniest amount of ink and just plan on doing it often. Two cc's worth of each color.

It wasn't so difficult once I got the hang of it. Now all I have to do is wait for the printer low-light to start blinking so I can change the cartridges and see how it all prints out. This just might work.

And I finally, finally finished that beastly writing job I've been complaining about all week. Now it's going to be a little easier going as I race to finish this huge printout and classy catalog project by Sunday. Will I make it? Will I wander out into the world in search of new photos? Will we ever see a movie again?

Stay tuned.

And although I'm moaning about my lack of progress, I can see now that I'm finally getting somewhere. There's a growing stack of finished work on my door-table. There's a growing pile of reading on my night-table, but I am so tired when I climb into bed that I hardly finish half a page each night.

And I've yawned so many times in the course of writing here tonight that there are tears running down my cheeks. Tears of happiness, because I'm almost finished.

Small, small steps. Repeat endlessly. Drop into bed in a sodden heap, sleep without moving, wake up frantic, repeat endlessly.