The week is half over and I am tired.  When I say that, I hear Warren Zevon’s voice in my head singing “You say you’re tired, how I hate to hear you say that word…”

This week, though, I am tired. And now I am complaining about it.

I have let the laundry pile up this week, knowing that I will have to pay for that this weekend.

I have gone to bed before 9:30 every night, rising at my usual early time.  I have relaxed in the bathtub, read, petted the dogs and written letters to my daughter and to a friend.  I’ve thought about happier days, made lists of things for which I am grateful and prayed. All of these are activities I usually find refreshing, recharging.

But not this week.  This week, I am just tired.

The unusual level of activity at work, constant stream of people in and out of my office… that has added to the tiredness, but not caused it.  I am in a funk. An annoying tired funk. And I need to snap out of it.





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