We overdid in November, with house guests and such, and I've switched up my PT as scheduled this last week. Between those two things, my butt: it is kicked. The PT change has been neither as great as one might hope nor as bad as one might fear. I believe it represents progress. But not the kind of progress that lets me skip ahead to Park Place and build three hotels. In fact I am still doing remarkably little skipping.
Also, I am trying to let Carter have his head a bit, but between Carter and my subconscious, some things are coming out wrong. "If you're some kind of desert spirit, you should act like some kind of desert spirit, that's what I say," is what I meant. What I typed was about dessert spirits.
I mean, we have ice wine in the fridge, but I don't think it's strong enough to qualify.