Another mostly sleepless night, when I would have expected to be made sufficiently tired by last Thursday’s chemotherapy to sleep soundly for hours and hours. Perhaps I will fall fast asleep during the day. I hope so. In the interim, mi novia went to church; I had planned to go, but did not have enough reliable energy to get dressed—and, had I gone, I might have fallen asleep while sitting in the pew. For now, I am washing a load of laundry; I may not wait for them to finish before I try to sleep again. If the washer completes its cycle before I get back in bed again, I may let them sit; better to dry them later, than to let them dry and get badly wrinkled before I hang the shirts and pants. Ach. The feeling of exhaustion, without being able to get to sleep, is maddening.
+++
Though I would like to express profound thoughts and ask probing questions of the universe, I am unprepared to do either. Instead, I will admit to feeling fatigue that severely limits my intellectual abilities at the moment; maybe beyond the moment. I want sleep. I need sleep. I will attempt to get sleep. This blog can wait. It can always wait. I am the only one who exerts pressure on me to write, write, write. Not now, though. Not for a while.
