I'm tired tonight. Unusually so.
Long day. Sick little boy home from school. Again.
Winter cold. Runny nose. Cough. I can tell he doesn't feel great but he doesn't feel totally yucky either.
All up in my business today. Nary a moment alone. That's part of the mama job description, I suppose.
I cannot remember if I ate dinner. At this hour, it's a non-issue. Sleep beats hunger right now.
This writing thing is a developed discipline. One which I've not adhered to very well over the past week, as other pulls and pushes took priority. Because they simply squeaked louder. Overshadowing my internal muse.
I thought I might have some sort of divine creative inspritation if I just started randomly talking on paper.
Not to be.
My lids are heavy. My body is losing steam. And my feet are cold. Making it hard to concentrate. (It's 48 degrees here now. Never reached 60 all day. And I'm barefoot. As usual.)
Maybe tomorrow I'll be better equipped to say something worthwhile. Hope springs eternal.