From Geof, who said he'd like to hear my answers. I'm following his lead: these links will go to the iTunes store, if you want to find out what the songs in my head sound like.

Only in our house would the phrase "you should move the snarling beast" be greeted with such equanimity. Or, better said, boredom. It is, after all, just our nickname for the vacuum cleaner.

I knew it as I dressed this morning: a telltale, blurry line of pale on paler. It was a demarcation of freckles next to the barest whisper of what could only be described as a suntan. It's not much, mind you; a 'tan' on a strawberry blonde can only be described as the barest blush of color on cream, but it is there, nevertheless.

This afternoon I came home with a sunburn, my skin smelling faintly of chlorine underneath the sunscreen tang.

You see, there's cute, and then there's a six-year-old learning to swim while wearing a shark mask and fins.

Is it confetti in the air, a word thrown amidst showers of sparkles, ephemeral and trifling but no less beautiful for its fleeting nature? Or is it the secret word of last resort, pried out with crowbars and truth serum, held back until end-stage relationship warfare for fear of its misuse? Does it fall from your lips the moment it is thought, or is it the unsaid knowledge that burns behind your eyelids, shimmering into your vision every time its object is seen?

What does it take to trigger the word 'love' from your lips? Is it an easy breath shared with friends; a sweaty, sexual gasp; a solid familial or marital reassurance? There is no unsaying, no retraction; does that knowledge of permanence make the words easier to scatter to the wind or infinitely more dear?

"This part always makes me panic, when I realize the sound's terrible and the film quality's bad, and I have to remind myself that these are just the commercials and the trailers, and that the quality of the actual movie will be much better." The darkened theatre swallowed most of my smile and nod, so I added a quick verbal acknowledgement.

Better. Much better.

My white cell count has dropped to 8,000, which is back down to within normal ranges. My chest x-rays are much clearer than they were last week, and my sounds & volume are much better than they were before. We did one last breathing treatment with albuterol, and he instructed me to go home and rest.

The strength of the antibiotic I'm on right now is causing … uh … issues, but this was anticipated. I don't have to return for another follow-up treatment unless I am still wheezing by Thursday.