I’m a bit surprised at how little energy I have.  But only a bit.

Having not held a regular schedule of any kind for more than a year, this whole “back to work” thing has proved quite the challenge.  I mean both mental and physical.

I’m squeezing in cat time and writing time and sleep time, not to mention time for everything else, yet I’m only three days into this dramatic shift and am feeling as though it’s beyond my capabilities.

Just a bit.

I’m tired.  When it sounds in the mornings, I want to turn the alarm off, roll over, and go back to sleep.

What once was an unhurried dawn routine now feels rushed and pushy, a slow dance step performed to fast and jittery music.

I arrive home in the evenings and find I can’t accomplish all I think I should get done.  That’s not bad as I’ve always been a workaholic guilty of piling too much on my plate.  Nevertheless, there’s a new feeling of ineptness when a mere four or five hours go by without my list being completed.

Climbing into bed makes me feel guilty and lazy.

I keep reminding myself I’m only three days into this.  I need time to adjust to something that for twenty years seemed as normal as breathing.

Perhaps it’s the grind of it all, the emotional and mental fatigue of having to do what I never wanted to do again.

No matter.  Onward I march.

Oh, and I’m already looking forward to the weekend.  Does that make me a bad person?

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