For a few weeks now, it has felt like I am accomplishing the bare minimum. I am writing fiction (partly thanks to the accountability ass-kick provided by the Write a Thon), teaching, and keeping body and soul together by a) acquiring and preparing food and b) beating back a certain amount of household messiness. A month or so ago I was also managing certain desirable extras: more walking, studying my Italian, reading, making sure I was in touch with my loved ones, working my chest and shoulder muscles… all that jazz.
Groove, I was in you. You felt good. I know this is just a fatigue/motivation blip, and I hope to fall back in you sooner, rather than later.