Wil Shipley has renamed his journal to "Scab".

Its motto? "When a wound starts to heal."

Positive signs are scattered throughout Shipley's on-line essays.

• "I got up extra-early today (2 pm!), thanks to some clever plotting by Wolfe."
• "I still feel hollow inside, but I'm doing a good job of faking being alive, I think."

• "[T]his evening I finally paid the credit card bill that my ex left me for the hotel she stayed in during her affair."

Ms. Rollins's charges had left Shipley with a painful dilemma: how to categorize it in "Quicken". But a solution quickly presented itself. "As it happens, she put it on the Quicken credit card, so it was automatically entered for me." Shipley did, however, enter information for the final cashier's check given to Ms. Rollins.

"The memo was 'Goodbye'."

Shipley pauses to reflect on their relationship. ("I think, as I got crazier, she started losing respect for me.") But Shipley's self-assurance is returning. "I think I'm plenty good."

"On Zoloft, I'm even better, but even not on Zoloft I'm still kind and concerned, I'm just grumpy and edgy as well."

Zoloft remains a recurring theme in Shipley's life -- and his on-line journal documents the effects of his recent release from obsessive-compulsive behavior. Shipley notes that "My driving has become completely crazy. I drive at 80 m.p.h. on city streets. I weave in and out of traffic. I burn out my tires all the time."

In earlier essays, Shipley disparaged the previous lack of spontaneity in the "non-drug-enhanced me." Now he characterizes spontaneity's side effects. "Going the wrong way? No problem! Dead end? Pull a y-turn! Back streets? Don't care. Totally lost? La-la-la."

In a later essay, Shipley revisits the theme. "I'm not really worried about getting a ticket. It's just a ticket. I'm not super-worried about wrecking up my car. I have insurance. I'm not particularly worried about killing myself. Ok, that one is a little strange."

Later, Shipley reveals his nickname for his car: "Whiplash."

Shipley's returning sense of humor may be another positive sign. One essay jokes that Shipley's pile of dirty laundry is "now large enough to become the 51st state."

Early in December, Shipley reported that he succeeded in sorting the pile. "Did not get as far as putting one of the heaps in the machine, but I felt just the sorting was pretty good progress."

Shipley soon found new tactics. "I realized today that if I can just squeak by for 4 more days, I won't have to do laundry ever (Tuesday my laundress comes). And, last night, true to my new optimism, I found a hidden cache of extra underwear in a little-used drawer...." Shipley also reports discovering a stash of unused socks. "Yes! I can make it!"

Now Shipley's optimism knows no bounds. After a co-worker's wife served him home-made pasta sauce, Shipley asked her to marry him. "[S]he pointed out she was already married, and that she wouldn't want to marry someone who only appreciated her cooking. I pointed out I thought she was hot, as well.

"No go."

But at least getting up at 2 p.m. has its advantages. "The sun is so beautiful. I've missed it."

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