Having a very hard time. Spent the last two hours goofing off, playing about with windy grasses.

The three hours before that were spent searching the entire house. I have been unable to locate the completed complaint form (First Version). It is not in any of the likely locations, is not associated with the other materials copied today, it is not in any of my standard document piles, is not sitting by the printer, is not in the upstairs office, is not in the bedroom, the bathroom, my satchel, my backpack, on the graphic arts table, mixed in with my medical reimbursement forms, under the desk, under my chair, flying about in the kitchen, or resting in any of the piles of folders and documents accumulated in the multi-year process of fighting my insurance claim.

I count myself very fortunate Dr H suggested I commence this blog. The blog was at first extremely difficult and tedious. Days would be spent in making a single entry. Then even more time would be devoted to making necessary corrections. There are posts on this blog showing in excess of 30 corrections. A series of frustrating horror-shows.

But I fought my way through all of that.

The big payoff to all of this effort, to the approximately 250,000 words that sit here in digital form as bits and electrons, as the vaguest suggestion of a magnetic orientation, is that in the more than two years of past effort I have reacquired some skill in writing. In fact, I think that my skills in text creation are superior to what they were prior to the accident. For the 12 years I worked with Gargantua, I did not write a single letter, or memo. Everything in the world of IT is bits. There is no flinging around of dead trees. No words conjured from the greased remains of old truck tire carcasses. Just the endless cavort of windy grasses.