Lately it has been that holding pattern kind of thing. Just a feeling like I'm living an intermission, rather than a real life. I think it is just the aftermath of weeks of frantic activity, and showing a calm game face, despite what is going on inside. I suspect this is so. All the adrenaline is leaving the body in a burst, and I'm left without much energy for anything at the moment. Or it's the change of seasons. Or it's the new windows and the enhanced warmth and quiet. Or it's the cat. Or it's just me.

But there you have it. Mornings this week have been tough. Tougher than usual. I have never been one to spring from bed, full of energy and life. It has always been a struggle. I emerge slowly. And with reluctance. And this week has been exceptionally hard. So there it is.

The nice thing is that bossman is traveling, and there is flexibility. I can come home and work remotely if I play my cards right. Then it's all about the comfort. Throw on the jammies, turn on the tv, and monitor my email for crises. All is well. But I still have to get up in the morning. And eventually I have to stop whining about it. Because that is boring, too.