Today I was hoping to report that I’d finally had some decent sleep. That I was feeling more alive and ready to start writing. That I was just feeling good in general.
I’m so freaking tired that I can’t think. I can barely type straight because there are tears in my eyes. I have been awake since 2.30am and while I’ll try to nap later when the toddler does, I never have much luck with day sleeps. I can’t blame her, even though she’s the one keeping me up. She’s sick, she has an ear infection, she’s probably teething. She’s not eating most real foods – all she wants is to breast feed for hours on end and watch the Wiggles.
All I want to do it sleep.
And the funeral is tomorrow. At this point I’m not even sure I can force myself to go, it seems too hard, too much of an expense of energy I just don’t have to spare.
I have dishes to do, and parcels to posts. I have things I need to get from the supermarket. And it’s raining.