I’m not entirely sure whether it was a weekend that was fuller of stuff – Not even necessarily interesting stuff, but stuff nonetheless – than I’d intended or what, but yesterday was one of those days where my brain just wouldn’t work. I worked the entire day, but just wasn’t productive in the way that I wanted/needed to be (In the end, I finished work somewhere around 10pm, because deadlines are deadlines and don’t wait around for inspiration; I started closer to 7am, though, and only took off around three hours in between), and just the idea of actually concentrating on what needed to be done seemed exhausting in and of itself.
These days happen, sometimes; the days when you’re just done, through no fault of your own. You’re out of juice, and all you really want to do is stop, sit back and relax, maybe read some more of that Gene Wilder autobiography that you’ve surprised yourself by getting into. It’s normally a sign that overwork has taken its toll and a vacation is needed, which might be the first time that’s actually happened in a timely manner, considering that Thanksgiving is around the corner. The first hint should’ve been the disruption in sleep pattern last week, now that I think about it…
