Comes the Crash

I woke up yesterday morning and then realized that I just couldn't. Not illness, I don't think -- just exhaustion. It's the end of the semester for both the boys (who I think officially finish next week) and Beautiful Wife, who turned in the last of her grading yesterday. That's always a rough time of year, but of course we've got the soft quarantine and economic collapse coming now; plus I kept trying to work on things after the boys went to bed. And I had a couple of things earlier in the week that made for some longer-than-usual workdays.

I should know better by now.

Anyway I called in, went back to bed for half the day, and then worked the other half from home to keep everything going at work. My timer suggests that I slept for about ten and a half hours, all told. Got a little less sleep last night than I should have, but it was solid and I feel a lot better.

I want to start picking the fictions up again on here -- or at least one of them. (If you've got a preference between Into The Black and Dark Armor, let me know in the comments. No promises, though.)

More than that, though I want to go back to a longer writing project and try to really focus on it -- as in set aside some time each night and forbid interruptions. Unfortunately, that requires getting everybody back on a real schedule, and that isn't going to be easy. (We're close, but it's slipped from 8:30 bedtime to a 9:30 bedtime. It's hard to explain why they have to get up at 6:30 in the morning if they don't have to go anywhere and don't really settle in for their school work until about 8:00.)

So, yeah, sleep: sleep is good. I may still run out of energy after lunch, but I'm feeling so much better this morning. Sleep is good.