Are you tired? I am. My legs are aching with it. And my feet. And the palms of my hands. And my eyelids.
My eyelids are tired, but they will not close. I lie in bed with chapter 12 of Natalie Goldberg open above my head and a tower of books beside me on the table. But I can neither read, because I am too tired, nor fall asleep, because… well just because I can’t seem to fall asleep.
The dogs don’t have this problem, especially Mr. Guinness. Nor does Trudy. The house is quiet.
“Are you ok?” she asked me this afternoon. “We need to go and do something.”
I guess planting those salvias amid the fog of mosquitos didn’t count as something. I guess we need to do something else. Of course, she’s right. We were going to go camping, but it rained. And I was going to go kayaking in the bright red kayak, but it rained. And because it rained, the mosquitos came. And…
Are you tired? I am.