Meanwhile, inside a nearby swordfish

In which our Hero is pouring some sugar on me

Unshackled from my lenten obligation, the chocolate bar that had been taunting me since February died a tasty and unremarked death at my toothful hands (and jaw). And I have to admit that even tough I didn’t especially like the same bar a few weeks ago, the long anticipation definitely made the milk-chocolate coated wafer go down nice and easy.

Next, I’m going to open up my package of Jelly Tots. Except it’s a pound-ish sized package. So I’m also going to need to figure out a way to put some distance between me and the refined sugar products.

Spent the last week dealing with a flu. Because attending meetings with heroic plague ridden people snorking and sniffling their way to infecting *ME* is very high on my list of pet peeves, I take the view that I will manage my bio-hazard profile to the best of my ability. And so I stayed home for most of the easter-shortened week, muting as much as I could remember before making my mucous noises.

Honestly, it’s been almost inevitable. I’ve been a little stupid, pushing myself ridiculously hard and giving myself no chance to rest, and I’m functional, but… exhaustion is showing. I’m sleeping ragged, waking up exhausted, and my brain is numb.

Trying to write is… inarticulate. I can’t hit critical mass to flow. God help us all, I may need to start doing free writes, just to get going again. Instead I have these paragraphs and ideas and they are stilted and dull. Turds without even the illusion of polish. And yeah, it’s been suggested that I just post shorter entries, and I would. If they didn’t violently suck.

Trying to note is a struggle too. When I started on OD, I only noted when I had something interesting to say, and got scolded for not seeming to care. So then for the last decade or so, I’ve been trying it a different way, and noting every entry I read. Basically, if someone too the pains to write, I will share my reaction. But… I’m tired. And I feel unscintillating. Actually, I mostly feel dreadfully boring, like a gravyboat full of meh.

And reading… I can’t read. Short stories I can’t lock on at all. Only the fact that Dallandrah’s manuscript is so interesting to me makes me able to read it for more than a few pages at a time, but I don’t have the energy to sustain it.

So I need to find a new rhythm. Or just find a proper vacation. Probably both. My plaguey long weekend was spent mostly in bed, mostly drowsing or wishing I could fall asleep.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was depressed. If I wasn’t a slow player, I’d tell you my “drawsomething” user name.

On the interesting side, since winter’s ebb last month, I’ve been wearing blazers to the office. Honestly I have no reason to dress up, but they are functionally coats and I’m amused to wear them and to see the reactions. Plus I really do look nice in them.

Credit for my title goes to the hilariously bizarre webcomic Axe Cop. Which is written by 5-year-old and drawn by his 29-year-old brother, moderately straight-faced. I don’t know how long you’ll stick with it, but it’s worth hitting at least a few strips to really appreciate the fairly typical madness of a fairly typical 5yo boy in a different way.