Now this has been a fairly good week for yours truly with errands and projects keeping me rolling right along, until of course, about seven o'clock or so at night when everything starts to slow down on its own. But by Thursday afternoon, after watching the ballgame on TV, I became aware of that odd feeling that maybe only those of us who have this/these two things(s) understand. Everything in your body just wants to stop. And you try to keep going, but eventually, even if you drink eight lattes in a row, once you get out of the bathroom and straighten up the living room 7, 8, or 9 times, you crash.
And, my fellow citizens, you end up like this: