Where is my energy?

So lately things have been sucking like a 700 H.P. Shop Vac and as a result I’m feeling (all the time!) like I’ve just finished running a marathon.  Those of you who know me know damn well that I’d NEVER run a marathon, but just picture what I’d look like if I ever did.

Can’t seem to scrape up enough energy to do the nice little things that make life easier and more pleasant, like making a meal plan for the upcoming week and the corresponding shopping list to go along with, not to mention actually DOING the shopping part.

And if I cleaned my computer desk, it would make working at my computer so much more pleasant–but then I’d actually have to find a place to stow all the flotsam and jetsam that’s washed up there, and I just don’t have the energeeeeee… Yes, that was a whine.

Of course, this also means I’m doing nothing to further my “writing career” (those quotation marks are there for irony).  As such, my “writing career” is non-existent right now because in order to have a career in writing, one would have to WRITE.  And I just don’t have the incentive to concentrate on anything right now: Not work, not housekeeping, not World of Warcrack, not the dogs, and certainly not anything as important as writing.

(And there, just then–that was my e-mail chime that you couldn’t possibly have heard, but I heard it–and promptly left this entry hanging in favor of some cheap momentary distraction from this task at hand.  Oh, for Pete’s sake, Kara, concentrate!)

The true irony of this is that writing helps me focus in all aspects of my life, and it motivates me to get up off my flat posterior and do some of those things that need doing.  Hence, Gentle Readers, I’m inflicting upon you this whiny and self-indulgent morsel in hopes that it will jumpstart some of the good stuff.  I’ll go chew some No-Doz, too–maybe that will help.

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