Writer fatigue is a funny beast. It makes you feel like the wires have crossed. You know what you want to say, but something quite different comes out. It’s almost as if the words with similar meaning are tossed into the bin, and my brain randomly pulls one out, looks at it, and goes, “Eh, good enough.”
For some reason, mine is lingering around. I shouldn’t be still having it – it’s been 3 weeks since we finished Magic Claims – but it keeps on. Normally, it goes away with rest, but I have rested enough.
It’s probably a combination of admin things, of which there were many recently, writing, research, and real life stress that comes with trying to navigate the loan system.
My pain is your gain. I present to you
Things Ilona Says When Tired.
Me: I need to vacuum my teeth.
Kid 1: Okay, mom.
Gordon: Did Baby go outside?
Me: Yes, Baby goed outside. Goed. I should be a writer or something.
Gordon: You should be.
Me: I need…
Me, thinking furiously about hot brown water and knowing that if I say that, the jokes will be endless: I need to get my… ::insert heroic effort:: tea.
Me: Worse comes to worst, we can remodel it. We can hire Debra. She’s a … ::painter manager, the person in charge of coloring and putting things, arranger person:: … an interior designer.
Me, staring at the search window on Amazon: Cloths, floor towels, water drying cushy things… come on, brain… … … bathroom rugs. Success.
And of course, this one is from the previous bout of this malady, but it’s still the best.
Me, exasperated with dog barking and darting under foot: Could we please refrigerate the small dog?
Me: Crate. I meant, could please crate the small dog?
May you have a productive Thursday.
PS. OMG, it’s Thursday already. How? Why?