I sat down this morning with the best intentions to write. I promptly churned out a 1-page short story that has actual potential. And now, ugh, I'm zonked. Completely annihilated. Like, I slept a good 9 hours last night and could have easily slept more if LG hadn't climbed into my bed, cheerily announcing, "Mommy, the clock says 7-0-7," and putting her cold feet under my ribcage. Fucking progesterone. I don't remember feeling this tired the last time I was on this (lower) dose.
I have an R&R that needs to be dealt with sometime in the next few weeks. I have final grades that need to be calculated (yes, I still keep a paper grade book). I have a list of dreaded phone calls to make. And, quite possibly, there is a small human-being-in-progress setting up shop in my uterus. Can't I just go back to bed?
No comments:
Post a Comment