I've been extremely unmotivated and lethargic lately. I don't even feel like writing this blog right now, but it's for that reason that I must persevere.
I have ample time on my hands and I could engage in a plethora of activities, but when I ask my body to engage, it replies with a lazy "mleh". Why don't we phone Mary? Mleh. Read a book? Mleh.
I could paint the ceiling. Yeah, right. I could do the laundry that's piling up. Er...nope. Bake some biscotti. Nu uh. Wax my eyebrows. Puh. Watch CSI. Sigh. Go out for dinner with friends. Crap, we made plans already so I'd be a putz to back out now.
I am so uninterested.
This lack of enthusiasm would be OK if I actually felt like doing nothing...you know the days where you enjoy wasting the day drinking coffee and picking lint off your sweater...but I'm bored. I'm disgustingly bored.
I began to worry about this blah feeling. It's not like me. Why do I feel this way?
Then I remembered.