As much as I'd like to say that I bounced out of bed this morning with renewed vigor, ready to tackle whatever came my way, that would be a big fat lie. I feel about ten years older than I did yesterday (so it's a good thing I only felt 43 yesterday). Last night was this bad: at 5:50 am I finally got off the sofa and crawled into bed, about an hour before the alarm was set to go off.
With the Boss set up at one of his remote offices (which always seem to be at one of his daughters' houses), I couldn't slog through the day as I would have liked. Maybe that's for the best, because it kept my mind off how weary I felt. He managed to come up with enough busywork to keep me going. If I'd stopped for a minute, I might have fallen asleep.
That's not why I didn't get the new birdbath set up, though. I'll have to blame that on the cold, dark, wet weather. I might have to wait for the weekend, or at least for some day when I can pull some weeds out of the way. The overgrowth is getting thicker, and instead of all green I can now see flowering, which means even more weeds. It's become a priority, to get the garden cleaned up, but I couldn't do anything on a sleepy, rainy day like this.
That doesn't mean it won't get done, though! All it will take is a little window of opportunity, a shaft of afternoon sunlight, just enough to warm my neck and shoulders as I stoop over the weeds. If tomorrow isn't the day, then it'll be another day. Sooner or later I'll wake up enough to get back into the good rhythm I had a year ago, when I worked steadily at my desk all day and then worked in the yard every afternoon. I won't wait until I'm feeling better to get started, because getting started is what'll make me feel better.