Sloth

I'm so exhausted. I am not so much like the sloth as like myself with many sloths hanging from my limbs.

It's all self-inflicted, but this is the first night in a long time that I haven't been finishing a packet, or celebrating a birthday, or entertaining out-of-towners, or retreating, or performing, or, sigh. I'm just tired.

Things I've done in the last 48 hours that I'd like forgiveness for:
- Self-disclosing way too much via email
- Moderating an online discussion while half in a dream state
- Going completely blank in the middle of an interview
- Complicating what I ought to be simplifying
- Missing what I never had

Read Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson from cover to cover today. I'm so tired it didn't even make me cry. But I do wish I hadn't waited so long to read it. Almost done with Skellig, which I started and stalled on when I left for residency oh so long ago. Next up, Tom's Midnight Garden by Philippa Pearce.

And you know that thesis I'm working on? Next draft's due September 10th.