It has been an insane few days.
I turned 54 on Friday the sixth, and my birthday present was the Garth Brooks concert on the fifth. It was awesome, but I came home with pretty much no voice (it finally recovered late Friday evening) and completely wiped out.
To quote the man himself: “I’m much too young to feel this damned old.”
Work has been insane all weekend and I’ve been exhausted.
And last night…
Last night at work I broke the ice machine.
And the floor.
(I’m now almost afraid to go to work this afternoon.)
Through all of this I’ve still been managing to write my thousand words a day – more or less. Some days I only got close, but I had a bit of a padding and was holding on to a one thousand word cushion. Barely.
Until last night when I was just too exhausted to string words together in any semblance of a coherent sentence. How tired was I? I was in bed at 2:30 instead of 3:30.
Goodbye 1000 word cushion – hello breaking even.
But I got a pretty good amount of sleep last night so I’m all fired up to write.
Except for that work thing…
But after tonight (providing the building and I survive) I have two days off.