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.

ornate door

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.

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75, 343 words to go on my novel!