The Elvis wobble

Sunday is Elvis wobble day. Shaky rubber bands stagger me across the room. What's left of large muscle groups burn and shutter. How they hold me up is a wonder. If I can keep it here, at this level, the day will only get better. Sit down, chill out, breathe deep day. But the slope is still so slippery. Twice already the tipping point has come fast and furious. One tiny crescendo and bam, it turns into wail day, blubber, heave, moan day. Waaa at freak-o level. Only serious mental yoga moves can gently pull me back and I'm getting good at that. It's never a sad day, still a hopeful day, just a fragile day. Still, it's a best to be alone day.