I should be writing. The Boy has been in school for over two weeks now. The Husband, although home sick, is upstairs. I have a new phone, but I figured it out. The dishwasher is empty. The library books are read. The dog isn't bugging me-- she is sprawled out on the floor, not even snoring. The weather is kinda dreary-- not enticing me to go outside and weed at all. The house, although in clear need of the vacuum, is not terrible, and there is no one coming to visit any time soon.
So why am I blogging instead of tearing into the book? The book is done. Yeah, I have lots of things I can keep working on. But, I could edit until the end of the world. I just need to send it out to the people who have agreed to read it.
I am feeling unfocused, kinda blurry even. I cannot keep from daydreaming. I have no real desire to do anything. I am not depressed-- I know what that is. I am just going through the motions right now. Part of me knows I need to recharge my batteries. I have failed MISERABLY at Plan 3-- the whole taking time for me thing. And this last two months have been terrible for that. The OAP festival, the wedding, the houseguests, the illnesses, the Husband being gone for ten days and now ill for the third week running. I am getting to take two days in October for myself, but not until the fourth weekend of October.
People can live for like six minutes without oxygen. A day with no water. A week with no sleep. A month with no food.
How long can a person live without a recharge? My guess is a long time. But is it really living, or is it just living?
1 comment:
You just keep going. There's no end in sight. Even a recharge isn't really a recharge. Vacations are draining. You just keep living until you (or your body) decide you're done.
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