I conked out on the couch today while Camille chatted on about the flower garden she was building with tinker toys. Then when I woke up, I made my way to the bathtub. So what if I already bathed this morning? I was trying to figure out why in the world I am so dang tired. Besides the obvious answer. (Life).
Things have been intense around here, for several months. In the post-holiday wake, however, everyone's schedules are settling down, which is nice. But I'm feeling a little rudderless; a small ship in a big sea, fierce winds, etc., etc. There is nothing quite like being lost in a familiar place to make you tired. Or, if you like to switch the metaphor, perhaps a little ship with way too many rudders. It makes it impossible to get anywhere because every rudder is pointing in a different direction. Poor little ship, churning to get somewhere.
But then it came to me. I painted a room yesterday at breakneck speed.
Rudderless, rudderful, or whatever. I painted a room. It looks nice. And today I am tired.