I'm reaching the end of my week off and I'm more tired than ever.
Fatigue has been an issue, and I think I've had a little bit of an illness. Maybe a virus or infection, but as I recover, the fatigue clings to me. Maybe by the time it's time to go back to the day job, I'll be good as new. Or maybe I'll just be back to my usual late-thirty year old tired self.
I did plan to write a butt-load this week off, but in the end, I've done very little. I actually think I'm one of those weird people who works better with a routine. Going to work gets me up and active early, and then I've got the rest of the day to write. I don't always make the most of my free time, but it does help to have a schedule and to wake up straight away.
Once the routine goes, all my motivation goes with it.
So, yeah, this has been a bit of a wasted week in one respect. But in another, I've absolutely loved going to bed early and not setting my alarm. Not setting my alarm is one of my most favourite things ever.
I've got two days left of this week off, and if I get to it, I might get a bit of writing done, but the weekend might fade away into making the most of the final two days. And by making the most, I mean wearing pjs and being sleepy.
The writer's life!
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