Well, it's late Sunday night, and I'm too tired to think of anything to write. Too tired to decide if any of the half-written "ideas" I've got in my blog file might actually work. Too tired to make them work even if I did decide if they might work...
Tiredness is a weird thing for me. I don't always recognize it as tiredness because, unlike other folks, I don't tend to want to nap. Usually I read when I'm tired. That's what I'm starting to notice -- I'm very passive when I'm tired. I can read email, but not answer it. I can read books, but not write them. And if the book requires too much thinking, I can't even read. Tonight, though, I've been even more tired to the point where I'm staring out the windows at the storm, reading meaningless articles in the Parade and generally doing nothing constructive. Though I could go unload the dishwasher... that just seems way too hard.
And I find it fascinating how difficult it is to decide to do anything when I'm like this.
All of which seems strange since Sunday is supposed to be my day of rest and somehow I have drained out my energy rather than replenished it. I shall have to think about why this might be.