I have a large and complex list of writerly projects, sketching out my plans for the upcoming months. This weekend, I’d wanted to work on three of them, plus a big pile of household stuff.
I’ve done one, and a few of the household things, and I’m ready to collapse.
Part of it must be the weather–the sun hasn’t been out in days–but a lot of it is probably just the general stress of life. So I’m going to go easy on myself and retire to the couch with a book. Not even take the walk I promised myself I’d take when I left yoga this morning after doing only about twenty minutes’ worth of the standing poses because my back was hurting.
Bleh.