The exit interview with the healer who doctored me the past 10 years is about to happen. How do I describe what's going on? The words which used to self enchant now seem fragmented and on a 5 second delay. Articulation has morphed into staggering epithets and what's with the stumbling? Has the ability to remain good on my feet conversationally degraded into doddering geezer talk? Of course this is embellished - why would I just stick to the truth? But admitting what I can do with how much difficulty seems to be the point here. Doc, you guided me from a 6-10 ibu/day regimen to still hoping for contender status but candid about the good possibilitiy it is directly ahead of me.

The damaged version yells in blinking blue neon that conceding to the damage should only be done as a last resort. Damage unchecked breeds damage. The balm used should be unfettered plus the ensuing attitude is just fun. In lieu of damage apply a sultry gaze towards the astounding bounty within reach.

Instead of use it or lose it, how about we just recuse it. The present version is friendly and satisfying in a kinda sorta way. The powdered sugar on the icing couldn't be anything sweeter than today is.