Booking Blues

This is so silly, and yet, so depressing. I feel like crying over this mess I've made of my writing. I just can't seem to do it anymore. Everything I've written this week feels stilted and only marginally literate. I know that my nursing is taking a lot out of me and the well isn't bottomless, but this is getting ridiculous. I am sitting here in my husband's recliner with some decent music on low, and my laptop on board, and yet all I can think of doing is having a good weep about being such a useless waste. Bleh. I don't even feel like reading. Or being awake at all.

Hell, maybe I'm just tired. Here's to better tomorrows.