I’m tired. Not just didn’t-go-to-bed-on-time tired, but soul tired. I’m tired or pushing myself, of overachieving, and constantly being on.
I want to do a whole bunch of nothing. Even baking a cake and video games seem like too much work. I can’t organize my thoughts to write, and I don’t really care. Instead I want to curl up in my down comforter, shield myself from the world, and have my husband read me a story.
And make and eat crepes.
In fact, I’m going to go do all those things and nothing else.
75, 343 words to go on my novel!