It’s hours past my coffee. Nearing the end of a busy day, actually, and even my bottle of water is empty. The rootbeer my Traveling Partner brought me at lunch time, long gone. The enthusiasm of the morning hours has given way to afternoon pain and fatigue. I’m alright. I’m barely bitching, just noticing.

Have I run out of words? Maybe, maybe not. Certainly, the cadence of my writing routine has changed rather a lot. It’s more a weekly thing these days.

…I’m so tired at the end of each day… I could write in the evenings, but rarely have the energy for it, cognitive or otherwise.

The font on this draft looks peculiarly small. I find myself wondering what combination of key strokes I may have struck to reduce the size of the font, or perhaps change the resolution of the window, or browser tab. It keeps me wondering, half-curious, half-annoyed. I struggle to let it go, which leads me to wonder what I’m really fretting over in the background… how could it be something this fucking dumb?? I shrug that off, make a sipping motion with my empty water bottle (I had already forgotten in was empty, and picking it up was reflexive).

I begin again.

…And then again.

…And still another time, never quite getting traction on my restless “monkey mind”. The weekend is almost here. Next week I’m out of town on business, and sort of excited about it. I’ll pack on the weekend, Sunday, maybe, fitting it in between the routine housekeeping tasks.

…I’m still super tickled by the robot vaccum my partner encouraged me to buy. It saves me so much work and expended energy, and yields such a lovely tidy result. Worth the expense. I honestly wasn’t sure it would be.

I guess I’m just admitting to myself that at least for now, I’m likely a weekend writer. You should know too, eh? Of course, knowing me, just saying so will kick my brain into high gear with all manner of inspiration for writing. It is, sometimes, the way of things to be contrary to plans or expectations. lol

The holidays are just ahead. I’m feeling the season this year, but also have no elaborate plans or grand expectations – just some cozy romantic connected time at home with my partner. Some holiday baking. Some holiday feasting. Some small amount of gift-wrapping. The tree – always the Giftmas tree. I wonder when I will become too old, or frail, or tired for that? Ever?

…I’m suddenly feel a blue moment of emotion wash over me. Loss. Loved ones no longer here to celebrate with. Family and friends far away, or out of touch. It is a poignant little moment of sorrow, painful, and personal, and shaped of tears and lingering heartache. I let the tears fall. I know this feeling is fleeting. It comes and goes with the times. Apparently now is a time for a few sad tears over severed connections. It’ll pass. It’ll pass sooner for having been felt, acknowledged, and given room to exist. I take a breath and let it go.

It’s already time to begin again.