It’s been over a month now since I had the unfortunate experience of breaking the middle finger on my left hand. Now, post surgery, sporting a Luke Skywalker styled hand with two metal rods pinning the joint firmly in to place I’m hopeful to regain full movement in the affected knuckle. Both of the pins actually stick out of my finger, one out the top with the other right through the tip and it’s that particular one that provides the basis for my story.

You see to protect the pin from any bumps or prods there is a small rubber ball on the end of it, similar to a tyre on the side of a boat to stop it banging against the dock. You can’t actually see this, nor the pins themselves, everything is hidden under a very attractive looking splint I’ve had moulded to my slender digit but it’s because of this rubber inertia dampener that I now find my finger to be a good two centimetres longer.

Graced with a new found reach you quickly learn just how subconsciously accustom you are to body’s limits. I can only personally liken it to a new pair of shoes that are slightly too large, you spend the first week or so bumping in to cupboards and having doors that you open clip them gently until your body starts to adjust for them without you even thinking about it. I’ve lost count of the amount of times having finished a meal my splint will be dripping in pasta sauce or most recently sweet chilli, eating a burger you tend to stab the guts out and lets not even mention knocking over liquids (thus far thankfully away from any expensive equipment – oh my poor couch!). The point is it takes some getting used to this body extension and that got me thinking.

Firstly it had me saying the word “extension” over and over in my head, which because of my lucid childhood arcade addiction I can not say without hearing the sound bite from Sega’s classic arcade racer “Daytona” playing over in my head… “Time ex-ten-sion!” Yes, I’m sad… this is not new information.

Secondly, and a little more on topic, being that I’m seeing a plastic surgeon to get all of this sorted out I’m constantly confronted with paraphernalia on what is obviously a plastic surgeon’s biggest drawcard in the current market, breast augmentation. Now if I’m having trouble dealing with an extra couple of centimetres on a finger how exactly do these women cope that wake up with a bust size that now doubles their previous waist circumference? I couldn’t imagine it! Forget about stubbing your toes on doors what about naked flames on gas-top stoves! I’m sure with time yes your body would adjust and things would become normal making considerations for your new found enhancements as I too have done over the past month or so but boy would it be a risky time. It certainly explains Robin Williams’ mishaps in Mrs. Doubtfire that’s for sure.

It’s not all doom and gloom though, the other day I found I could reach the remote control all the way on the opposite arm of the couch with my new found powers. Sure I can’t bend my finger but is that a fair pay off for my now super-hero like abilities? Stand back ma’am I’ll press that elevator button for you!! My kryptonite being of course anything requiring a firm two handed grip like brooms, vacuuming or housework in general riding a bike or holding a weapon.

Hmmm, ok, on second thought I’d be a pretty crap crime fighter.

In the few times that I’ve retold this story the consistent theme in each response has been along the lines of “Gee you’re accident prone aren’t you?” generally conveyed in a somewhat sarcastically rhetorical kind of way. I can’t blame them, in the past few years I’ve been hospital twice already and now with this latest endeavour I’m surgery bound once more.

The short version of events comes down to my knuckles trying to (unsuccessfully) catch an American football. Normally I’d allow the palms of my hands to look after such a task but on this particular occasion my brain decided to do things differently, you know, try and keep things fresh and all. I had, after all, been catching balls using the tried and true method for quite a few years now and it’s just plain dull.

It would seem however that my knuckles, or to be more specific the top knuckle of my left middle finger, wasn’t quite up to the challenge on this particular day and instead it felt the need to sustain an injury called “mallet finger” where the tendon is over extended and stretched causing a rather significant amount of pain.

My doctor the next day didn’t seem particular concerned with what had taken place, “A common injury among footballers I see every day” he told me, whilst at the same time observing my rather scrawny body seated opposite him and quietly quizzing himself as to why on Earth I would even put such a fragile frame in a position. I felt the need to reassure him that I was merely tossing the old pig-skin with a mate and not actually participating in an actual game. That would, of course, be suicide.

“Nothing to worry about” he said, “We’ll just take an x-ray to be sure but you’ve got some movement there, which is good, but you’ll be splint bound for about 8 weeks, less than 5% chance there’d be anything else going on”.
Oh joyous day, my day-job of programming was sure to suffer from the splinted attributes I was soon to inherit and no doubt it would of course ice my moonlighting career as the new wide receiver for the Green Bay Packers but that’s ok, they were knocked out of this years Superbowl that morning – most likely due to my absence mind you.

X-ray done and a few minutes waiting for the docs return I was met with what could only be described as “you’ll-never-frakin’-believe-it-but-you’re-in-that-5%-I-shouldn’t-have-mentioned-about-10-minutes-ago” look smacked across his gob. I started to smile, it just seemed funny waiting for him to try and figure out how to break the news to me that my finger was completely rooted. The smile evolved into a giggle and I apologised telling him that it was OK I was used to being in the medical minorities.

Turns out my tendon had done a little chop and wiggle from my bone, which was already expected, but a shard of bone had come loose, which again was kind of expected but as this shard was over 50% the size of the joint it was a little bigger than 8 weeks in a splint was going to fix and meant it was going to need some surgery to get things back on track.

“I’m going back to the tit doctor aren’t I?” I asked him.
“Um… sorry?”
“I had my wrist operated on a few years back by a plastic surgeon” I informed him, “His entire office was decorated with breast implants that he displayed with gusto & pride; ‘tit doctor’”.
“Ah, well yes, that’s probably where you’re headed” he confirmed.

Turns out my plastic surgeon is on a little extended leave post new years and I wont be seeing him any time soon meaning my day surgery attendance is beyond that by some time. At this rate I’ll do 8 weeks in the splint, have the surgery and then spend another month recovering (in a splint). I might make the Packers’ pre-season if I’m lucky! Haha.

As you can imagine having any body appendage retarded you begin to quickly realise just how often you rely on it. Sure it’s my non-dominant hand but I’m quickly broaching a new level of admiration for those of the world missing limbs or paralysed. In that spirit here’s a quick top 5 list of things I’ve found embarrassingly difficult to achieve only one finger down.

1. Squeezing toothpaste out of a tube while holding a toothbrush at the same time.
2. Putting deodorant on, it now involves resting the can on my bedside table and pushing the button with my thumb and spraying it al over my arm nowhere near my armpit.
3. Eating a meal that requires cutting meat, the “stab & devour” method of food consumption is now employed on a regular basis.
4. Opening a bottle of… well anything really, even though I use my right hand to twist the cap keeping a grip with my impaired left hand is like lifting a 10kg weight with my pinky finger only.
5. And then finally… making the bed. It took me 20 minutes to put on a fitted sheet yesterday, the whole process now involves me holding the sheet in my teeth whilst lifting the mattress with my good hand and hooking it underneath. It’s just plain awesome to watch in a rather sad yet unbelievably humour-able fashion.

All that said typing is something that I’ve quickly adapted to doing one finger down and once this new medical chapter comes to an end I’ll probably have to teach myself to use the current dead-weight-digit the other 9 are carrying on the keyboard!

Last weekend Melbourne played host to the Championship Trophy. The international men’s hockey tournament consisted of the world’s top six teams including Australia, Germany, & The Netherlands. To be honest I had no idea that it was even on until a friend from Adelaide rang to say he and his hockey club team mates were flying over for it and I managed to grab a ticket from them. I’m glad I went, I really miss playing and for the two days I was there I had a great time.

On the photography front I think I took nearly 200 hundred photos from the crowd, a lot of them useless but some of them pretty fun and catching a bit of action. The fruits of my labour are viewable in the slideshow below. Unfortunately taking photos like this at a sports event only makes me want to go out and buy some ridiculous zoom telephoto lens rather than using a stock standard 250mm lens that came with my DSLR.

Credit: Flickr user 'lolojajaja'

I had an disturbingly interesting experience on one of Melbourne’s fine public transport receptacles yesterday that I felt I just had to share will the world of internets out there.

Whilst travelling from point A to B there was a point that the seats next to me became occupied by a young mother and her two boys around the ages of 5 and 10. Nothing particularly fascinating about that I know but what was to come had me wondering if perhaps I’d just encountered a young Charles Manson.

Once seated the eldest of the two boys noticed an advertisement adorning the tram’s walls that contained a picture of one of Australia’s own Ringtail Possums.

“Look Mum, there’s a possum” stated the boy. Yet another statement confirming Douglas Adams’ theory of humanity merely stating the obvious for 90% of conversation.
“Yes, you’re right, do you like them?” enquired the mother.
“I want to kill it” replied the boy. Um… ok. Not the response I was expecting.
The mother, clearly embarrassed by the child and now noticing the majority of the tram glancing with judging eyes quickly responded with “But you can’t, they’re endangered”.
Slightly puzzled yet not deterred the boy retorted, “I don’t care if they’re ‘engaged’ I don’t like them, can I kill it?”

The conversation then went on with the mother doing her best to explain what “endangered” actually meant, another entertaining story in its own right, before the boy quickly lost interest and began jumping up and farting on his brother clearly disinterested in her efforts, the “death to all possum” revolution purged from thought.

Now I’ll be the first to admit that I’m probably not reciting the conversation verbose but you have agree that this is hardly the conversation that instills faith in humanity’s new generation. Coming from a Gen-Y’er like myself that’s saying something!

I’ve been meaning to do this for a while now and last night with a spare hour or so I threw together a video of my photos from the 365 Day project I finished on flickr earlier this year.

You can see all the photos individual (if you wish) here: http://www.idontquiteknow.com/365-days/

Preface:This whole (strange) post came about through a conversation I’d had with a friend, Philippa, about how I don’t actually listen to lyrics combined with my sister’s love/hate relationship with Britney’s musical offerings. When I set out to write this post I had it was planned to be a somewhat satirical aloof take on Britney Spears’ *cough* masterpiece *cough* “Circus”. What it turned in to was a rather surreal story of world domination that would have you thinking I was tripping on acid when in actual fact it turned out my sugar levels were low and to be honest I don’t actually remember writing half of what I did now reading it back. Regardless here it is, a lyrical analysis of Britney Spears’ “Circus” (whilst low on sugar).

Before we begin, for those of you that have no idea what song it is that I’m talking about feel free to jump over to YouTube and check it out. Once you’re done vomiting come back and continue reading… Oh and don’t worry I’m not about to go through the whole song, it’s surprisingly not that insightful!!! I know, hard to believe!

There's only two types of people in the world
The ones that entertain and the ones that observe
Well baby, I'm a put-on-a-show kind of girl
Don't like the backseat, gotta be first

This is actually quite deep for Britney. She’s successfully divided the world’s 6.7 billion strong population into a distinct cross section clearly garnered from years of research with organizations such as the United Nations and Screen Actors Guild. Now that the world has been completely split in to two equally diverse categories it will calm down so that those that “observe” can watch those that “entertain” and we’ll all live in happy bliss. The only problem I can see in her theory of world peace is that just as she states “gotta be first” I fear a great deal of those living in the now secular society of “ones that entertain” will also feel the same way and quite quickly a civil feud may erupt, the next thing you know there’s hair, silicone & Prada bloodied and strewn across the streets of this new world. It’s actually quite apocalyptic for little old Brit’s.

I'm a like the ringleader, I call the shots
(Call the shots)
I'm like a firecracker I make it hot
When I put on a show

There’s not quite as much hidden in the next verse. Following on from the division of the world Britney has declared “Spears-Law” and emerged from the uprising as the new lord of “Princess-Land” as she’s named the US, which now holds the remaining population of “entertainers” post civil war. Britney rules over Princess-Land with fear tactics, promising that any of those who dare rise in opposition will feel the “firecracker” of justice and burn as she “make(s) it hot” for those that disobey. The rest of the world will watch in pale terror “When [she] puts on a show”

I feel the adrenaline moving through my veins
Spotlight on me and I'm ready to break
I'm like a performer, the dancefloor is my stage
Better be ready, hope that you feel the same

The pressures of ruling Princess-Land are beginning to take toll on poor Britney. Her rule is in jeopardy and with each adrenaline fueled strike she takes to topple the constant attempts to remove her as Queen she’s left alone, constantly in the spotlight of the new nation, “ready to break” under the pressure. Britney is no quitter though, she’s “like a performer”, not an *actual* performer by any means, that would require talent, and the stage is set for a final showdown between her 1984 drone-like followers and her once fellow entertainers, now plebeian subjects, to decide the fate of Princess-Land.

All eyes on me in the center of the ring just like a circus
When I crack that whip, everybody gon' trip just like a circus
Don't stand there watching me, follow me, show me what you can do
Everybody let go, we can make a dancefloor just like a circus

Leading up to the “Final War”, Britney and her cabinet begin a strategic marketing campaign to grab more attention & enlist the people to her and her cause. The “circus” is the unruly terrorist like attacks being employed by her enemy in Princess-Land against her, she stamps her authority over them and her subjects with a crack of “that whip” bringing everyone in to line once again, “Don’t stand there watching me, follow me”, enlisting them to take arms and fight for their ruler, “show me what you can do”.

There's only two types of guys out there
Ones that can hang with me and ones that are scared
So baby, I hope that you came prepared
I run a tight ship so beware

Britney’s efforts at enlisting the people have failed, they’ve turned against her and have been swept up by the underground movement spearheaded by Paris’ dog Tinker-bell, the now smartest living person in all of Princess-Land. Those closest to Britney are given the ultimatum to either come with her in a final stand or die, “There’s only two type of guys out there”. Oddly enough her original move and catalyst for all of this was dividing the world into two, she seems to not have learnt anything, once again dividing her remaining male followers, essentially handing down their death sentence either way.

[Repeated verses & chorus]

Now living underground in a burnt out Krispy Kreme store that fell through the ground in to the sewer system caused, ironically, by one of Britney’s bombings in the early days of the uprising, she begins to slip into a psychotic state still believing she is ruling what she had then labelled “Princess-Land” but is now the United States of Chihuahua with human life eradicated by Supreme Chancellor Tinker-Bell.

Let's go
Let me see what you can do
I'm runnin' this like-like-like a circus
Yeah, like a what? Like-like-like a circus

Having not eaten for over a week and the decaying bodies of her loyal few rotting around her Britney spends her remaining hours of life rocking; chanting that she’s still running the world albeit a “circus”, her mind completely gone and her childhood stuttering returned “like-like-like”. Her life begins to wain and the song’s continued, seemingly never-ending, verse repetition signifies her dying moments in the cold shell of the Krispy Kreme bunker grave she dug for herself. From the highest of highs to lowest of lows her Circus of rule comes to a sad end and Chancellor Tinker-Bell restores the nation to pre Princess-Land glory.

All hail Tinker-Bell!

Darren Mavromatis was a very special person in my life, when he sadly passed from a massive heart attack whilst on his honeymoon at the age of only 33 I, along with everyone else, couldn’t believe it.

Two years on and Darren’s sister-in-law, Amanda Zimmermann, in conjunction with The Heart Foundation Australia have organized the “Walk for Love” event to be held in Adelaide on the 16th of May.

The event is a walk from Brighton Beach to Glenelg and back again and all are encouraged to join in to promote personal health and heart illness awareness. For those of you that can’t make it to the walk itself please consider sponsoring either an individual walker or the event as a whole by visiting this page.

If you would like any further information please contact Amanda on 08 8229 9203 or email amanda [at] hsptravel.com


Important Links:
Walk for Love Donation page
Walk for Love – Information Sheet (PDF)
HSP Travel

Today I am straught with bitter-sweet emotion as today I took the final photo (seen above) in a series of personal portraits that I began snapping one year ago today. Every day for the past 365 days I’ve sat in front of my computer pulling faces, displaying props and trying to keep somewhat of a consistant white background as a part of the 365 day project on Flickr.

I can’t say that I’m overwhelmingly sad to come to the end, trying to do something different every day for a year is a challenge I’m exhausted of, but it does give you the opportunity to reflect over the past year. These photos cover my life in four different countries, through times of happiness, sorrow, excitement and boredom, hell it sounds like I’m in the middle of a wedding!

What I can confidently say is that I’m proud of myself for sticking with it and seeing it through to the end. It’s a feather in my cap and one that many of my friends who began the journey with me will be without.

To those who are thinking of enrolling in the task my best wishes go out to you but be aware of what you’re taking on because this is no easy road to walk down. Do your best and try not to let boredom get the better of you turning the daily task into a chore.

Lastly to others that have continued on beyond 365 days frankly I think you’re nuts! But I applaud you for having the strength to continue on!

The full 365 day set: http://www.flickr.com/photos/rdeut/sets/72157603745905122/

It’s not very often that I talk about being a Diabetic, sure I’ve got the website that I created DiabeticDays, but even with that I don’t particularly enjoy reminding myself that I am a Diabetic by talking about it all that often so this little blog post is somewhat of a rarity.

Lately I’ve been having a few sugar lows at the wonderful hour of 3am, which mean I wake up from my precious slumber and have to shovel sugar into my system before it goes low enough that I have a hypoglycemic attack which could lead to a Diabetic coma. Yes it sounds fun doesn’t it!? I know why they’re happening, I’ve been walking home from work the past few weeks and that combined with the more healthy diet that I’m trying to adhere to for cholesterol reasons all culminate into my body sucking up the nutrients hours after the exercise and not leaving any fatty crap for my insulin to work on. You do your best and adjust the amount of insulin that you take to prevent it form occurring but these things take time.

Anyway, when I wake up and begrudgingly drag myself from under the covers to my cupboard it is a rare opportunity for me to ingest foods that would most definitely be ruled forbidden in a Diabetic’s normal diet. Thoughts of chocolate, cake and ice cream begin to dance around in a Christmas like sugar plum fairy fashion and the possibilities of enjoying a treat seem endless. The problem is these fanciful dreams are crushed by the reality that hang on, you’re a Diabetic, you don’t have these types of things readily available in your pantry cupboards. Sure I keep a few of these things around for emergencies but it’s never what you really want at the time.

For example, last night I had a packet of Mars bars, my old faithful for these types of occasions because I know exactly how much I need to eat, but the thought of eating another freaking Mars bar does nothing more than make me want to vomit at times like these. No last night all I wanted was some ice cream; nothing fancy, just some plain old vanilla ice cream. Some creamy, thick, white gold that would melt in my mouth and its sugary contents dissolve into my blood stream. The silly thing is though that had there been ice cream in the freezer at the time even in addition to the Mars bars that were actually there it would have been the last thing that I’d have wanted. I’d probably want orange juice or cake or jelly beans anything you could think of besides what is actually available at the time.

Post sugar intake the cravings continue but as your brain has gotten back online with a now normal sugar enriched blood flow it turns to food in general. A fresh chicken and lettuce sandwich, pancakes, lamb roast… the possibilities limitless for what I can dedicate the next day to concocting once awoken. A few hours sleep and drive to the supermarket later and those midnight cravings have faded to nothing more than a sickening thought and with a world of ingredients laid before me on their consumer shelves all I can think about is how quickly can I possibly escape from this hell hole.

It’s funny how it all works and this thought has only just hit me now whilst writing this post but when it all comes down to it my sugar low food cravings and their outcomes are nothing more than a validation of the life metaphors of “wanting what you can’t have” and “not wanting what’s right in-front of you”. It’s sad really because what’s right in front of you, just as the case for a Diabetic needing sugar, is quite often the perfect thing for you.

PS. I’d kill for a pavlova right now. *drool*

I’ll be updating this post throughout the next 24 hours with a play-by-play low down on exactly what’s going on and just how well I can see still! You can follow others’ game plans and get more information in the Sarcastic Gamer ExtraLife forums.

9:00am – We’re done. 24 hours. Woot! Good work everyone. I can’t type or function any more, I’ll see you on Monday world. Good day Sir.

8:26am – 30 minutes to go peoples and I’m spending the same as my first 30 minutes, playing CoD4 on my Mac. I’m avoiding the multiplayer though and just doing a level of the campaign because if I sucked so badly with sleep yesterday there’s no way I’d be able to hold my own in my current state!

7:22am – I really, really want to play Rock Band for some reason. Everyone’s asleep though. Do you think they’ll mind?? Hmmm… maybe I’ll pop in Grand Theft Auto 4 (GTA4), I’ve neglected Niko for long enough!

7:08am – 42. (Inside joke)

6:19am – 15 minute nap turned into half an hour. I needed it though, got a complete second wind. Now which console to hurt some more? I’m thinking a little of Wipeout HD again followed my some brain-dead FIFA `09 both on the PS3. Speaking of hurting; I’m surprised my thumbs aren’t bleeding by now.

5:43am – What if I just rest my eyes, just for a second. 15 minutes then I’m in for the last 3 hours.

5:25am – OK, it didn’t talk to me. I just needed coffee. Back to the Xbox. Still playing Star Wars.

5:20am – I swear the coffee table just spoke to me.

5:03am – I have never played games this long. The last time I played a computer game anywhere near this long was when I was about 11 and I hired the new “Alex the kid” game for my Sega Master System. I remember having been glued to it all day and then when I came out for dinner everything that was white looked bright red to me. I’ve never been able to look at mashed potatoes the same!

4:12am – My bed looks so nice and comfortable right now.

3:49am – On the verge of delirium. I have no idea what’s going on in Star Wars: The Force Unleashed at the moment. All I know is that if I keep pressing “X” on my controller I seem not to die

3:01am – Serious case of the yawns. Breaks are becoming little more regular as my brain slowly fades to nothing. Worried if I close my eyes I’ll go to sleep.

2:09am – How is it that a video game for Star Wars that’s only had about 10 minutes of dialog is already better than Episode One? Don’t get too excited though, Lucas has managed to keep some sense of cheese in there with an android that takes the form of anyone it likes. For the hormonal tweens & married men forget the android you have a personal intergalactic chauffeur with a breast endowment that would put Lara Croft to shame.

12:45am – Used my break to make my bed with the clean sheets from the washing I did earlier in the day. Ahhh fresh sheets for when I collapse in a pile of gamed out goo. Unfortunately looks like I’ve lost my MGS4 save game because the PS3 was replaced a few weeks back. Really can’t be bothered starting from scratch today so say hell to Star Wars: The Force Unleashed!

12:22am – I sat down nearly two hours ago to play Wipeout HD until the pizza I ordered arrived. Well the pizza’s gone but I’m still playing Wipeout! This game is damn cool, I don’t remember why I hated the old versions so much? Graphics are pretty amazing too! Still it’s time for a break, my eyes are getting tired, then on to MGS4.

10:40pm – I still don’t get why the PS3 doesn’t install things you download automatically?! It’s retarded! Grrrr, hurry up already Wipeout HD!

10:20pm – Just ordered Pizza for my dinner, 40 minutes away so I thought I’d play a few little arcade/PSN games. Little bit of Geometry Wars and what the hey, I’ll buy Wipeout HD for AUD$27.95, it’s for the kids, I swear!

10:05pm – I just completed Bioshock! Goal 1 achieved for the day, even if I am about 3 hours behind schedule. I’m thinking maybe I should dedicate the rest of the time to finishing Metal Gear Solid 4 (MGS4) which I’ve had sitting here for months, but the call of Star Wars: The Force Unleashed is soooo appealing! On Bioshock; what an absolutely amazing game! All the elements of a puzzler & FPS rolled into one with the most immersive story-line I’ve experienced in a game. For those out there that haven’t played it, go get it now! You’ll love it!

7:29pm – Just had my ass handed to me in some CoD4 multiplayer. I really suck at that game online! Back to Bioshock, but it’s getting dark and I’m getting scared. Will stop for a dinner break at the half way point (9pm).

5:30pm – You can still donate!! Instructions on doing so here.

4:50pm – Taking a Bioshock break by having a game of FIFA `09 on the PS3 with my housemate. My heart can take a little break from its palpitations ;)

3:30pm – Bioshock time. If there’s one thing I’ve set my goals on achieving today it’s finishing Bioshock. Hopefully I get it done before it gets dark because there are moments in that game that almost make me shit myself I swear!

3:08pm – Woah, look at the time and I’m still on CoD4. Time for a change up and to do another load of washing :( boooooo! Actually this might be a good opportunity for a lunch break. Jam on toast, packet of chips & a Diet Dr. Pepper. Lunch of video game champions!

1:00pm – Still playing CoD4. I love this game, it is without a doubt the best FPS on the market still and playing it on the Mac for the first time is just making it all the more enjoyable. I was going to stop but I just hit the sniper level, which is my favourite, so I’ll complete that and move on to the Xbox. Arsenal ended up winning BTW (3-1) and for my break I’ve popped on a load of washing, just for something different.

10:25am – Fresh new Starbucks. Switching to Call of Duty 4 (CoD4) on the Mac so my housemate can watch the Arsenal game on the TV. They’re losing 1-0 against Everton at the moment in case you’re wondering…

9:00am – The ExtraLife event has begun for me and my time zone. Straight into Bioshock on the Xbox 360.

8:45am – Woke up. Again. Dressed, coffee. I don’t think I’ve been up this early on a Saturday since I was 7.

8:00am – Woke up, not starting until 9:00, had planned on showering and getting all prepared. Decided sleep was more important. Went back to bed.