It is early afternoon. I wasn’t feeling well when I woke up. In fact, it’s been a difficult week health-wise.
I want to work on my writing. Usually once I start, I can write 900+ words in one sitting. It takes little effort.
I wonder, however, what the quality of my writing would be, if I wrote when I was this tired?
My emotions and feelings (and tiredness) has always shown on my face. I do try to prevent this, but unless I’m really prepared for what life throws, it shows.
I would assume it shows in my writing as well.
This morning when I was feeling less tired, I wrote on my Proud of Every Wrinkle blog about how people’s points of view change with each decade of life.
My ability to write seems to change with each hour.
I used to be a morning person. I was one of those morning people that made other people cringe to be around me.
Now I drag out of bed in the morning. Thank God for my little black dog, for there are days I might never get up, if she didn’t nudge me and ask to go out.
I find that after lunch, I crave a nap. I haven’t had any medicine to help with today’s pain, except one Tylenol, but if I take the pain medicine, I find that I sleep. I cannot stay awake at all. After lunch, even without the pain medicine, I lie down. I have a book I am reading (always) and read a few pages in it. Then I close my eyes and sleep until I wake up, which is usually when the dog nudges me.
I’m finding that I’m more of a night person than I ever was. It is not unusual for me to be awake at 2:00 am. Some of my best writing is done in the late hours.
I’m writing this now just to see how I write then I’m tired. I don’t want to go to bed. It’s a beautiful day and there’s so much I could do this afternoon. Alas, I cannot hold my eyes open.
I’ve noticed that naps are not strangers to older people. It must be part of the aging process. I heard Thomas Jefferson slept short amount of times throughout the day and night. Let me see how old he was when he was president. Oh, no . . . it’s during two different centuries that he lived. Let’s do the math. He was born in 1743. He died in 1826. Let’s subtract . . . Wow! He lived to be 83. He was president from 1801 to 1809 . . . In 1801, he would have been . . . time for math again . . . 58 years old. He was president for 8 years, so his presidency ended when he was 66. (Feel free to check my math, I’m tired.) I guess he was “older” when he was president.
Ok. I’ve written. I’ve done math that I had no intention of doing when I sat down to write. I’m going to lie down. I’m reading the best book right now. It’s about an adopted woman who searches for her biological parents and . . . she has quite a revelation when she finds them. It’s called Never Knowing by Chevy Stevens. I like the way it’s written and I like the plot.