CFS Bunny, advance two steps.
Dracula train, advance one step.
Grocery delivery stock up, two steps.
Stove now ready for winter, three steps: more than I planned, and I might have overdone it there, but one piece really didn't want to go back where it came from.
At an hour's rest for every five minutes activity, the day gets used up before very much happens, once meals and routing chores start getting counted.
A James Bond novel it isn't.
Oh well, I was never promised it would be.
I'd probably have preferred a Desmond Bagley, to an Ian Fleming, anyway.
There have been films with autistic central characters, but I'm having trouble seeing how one with CFS would work, and draw an audience.
Oh, of course, I forgot the Hollywood effect: facts and truth don't matter. A character who is forever ignoring his limits and, having been heroic, collapsing into the arms of of the female lead, exhausted.
Sheesh, that's worse. I'm sorry came up with the idea.
I half believe it, though, seeing what Hollywood has done with autism, and history...
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