Mph.

It's late. And I just realized as I was about to get ready for bed that I hadn't touched my computer all day, and hadn't written anything in my journal since Thursday. This made me feel very strange and unusual - I love my journal, and want it to feel safe and petted and well-cared for, instead of unappreciated and thin and glossed-over. On the other hand, I'm tired and brain-fried. I'm still at least partially oxygen-deprived, and I've spent most of the day nursing my sweetie through a fairly severe bout of bronchitis and playing midwife for several batches of holiday cookies that took over my kitchen in their desire to come into being.

I want to write something. I have things to write about. People were here last night, and they were nice, and it was good, and they ate and sang and talked. I have good books to read. Holidays are coming up. Projects are being done. I should write something about this. Instead I'm sitting here in a semiconscious state, realizing that I spent the entire day feeling like my eyes would fall out of my head if I didn't occasionally push them back in.

Wow. That was overly vivid. I think I'll go to sleep now.....