Wouldn't you know it, this morning my muse has fled and today's writing prompt is to write about what it feels like to be very, very tired.
My "tired" is not that of those worthy souls who take the stairs instead of the elevator, or the sweaty sweats who pound endlessly on the treadmill. I am a physical coward. My tiredness is of the mind, where I do most of my exercise. I'm working on a few puzzles right now, and their resolution won't come easily. It will take targetted research. How do I make sure I ask the right questions?
But I am complaining about work that I am born to do. The tiredness is earned, and the result a few months from now, well, if I remember to celebrate, will be worthy.
How does brain tired feel? I am fuzz. Repeat your question. Thoughts drag their way out like lead shoes. Don't ask me what's for supper. Feed me brainless television, please. Something that doesn't take any thinking. Hubby asks, "Helloooo, are you there?"
pause
Not really.
I'm not even sure where I am any more.
