I am very tired today. So tired that every time I breathe, I yawn. I swear I even yawned at the gym, as I worked out on the evil elliptical machine. The machine I have learned to hate and love at the same time, because I know it’s giving me a good workout, but I hate it all the same. I can’t believe it’s already almost Thursday. I like Thursdays. Thursdays have such possibilities. It’s a day when I get to leave the house after work and knit for a couple of hours, free of any of my motherly or wifely duties around the house. It’s a day where we have meetings at work that are both productive and fun. It’s a day when anything can happen, and everything does.

But it’s still Wednesday, at the present time. And so I sit at my computer, thinking about so many things, knowing that I can’t talk about most of them to such a worldy audience, and I am tired. I’m tired of dancing around my words, skirting the issues, not saying exactly what I mean in a lot of cases. I have so much to say, so much to offer, so much to give to others, but I must always restrain myself, because sometimes I try too hard, I want too much, I’m so curious all the time. I’m too nosey for my own good, and I’ve always been this way. I’m not apologizing for the way I am, but I acknowledge it. Sometimes it’s okay to ask questions, to be inquisitive, to want things.

I think it might snow tonight, but probably not enough to call off work. I want to work on my novel, but the world keeps getting in my way. Exhaustion is eating away at me. And I know that I’ll most likely go to sleep and wake up at 4 am, wondering why I’ve woken up at such an ungodly hour. Is there anything happening at 4 am that needs my attention? I highly doubt it, but I could be mistaken.

At any rate, I have nothing pressing on my thoughts to write about (well, nothing I can really write here, anyway). There is so much I wish to do, but I know I’m just going to read a bit of “Siddhartha” and fall asleep. And there will most likely be a cat sprawled across me, if not two.

My novel will have to wait another day. I’ve set myself a deadline for writing it, so that I can pass it off to my muse to read, in a more polished form. I have so much left to write. And it’s in such a disjointed state at the moment. But I’m getting there. Slowly.