This isn't going to be a very exciting post. It's just going to be a place-holder. Because I'm pooped. I'm not depressed. I'm quite happy, in fact, for the most part. I love my program, I love my department, I love love love my friends and my research and my home and my goofy kitties and most of my life. Except that whole can't get a date with a single guy thing.
I'm just fucking exhausted.
In the midst of all the exhaustion, I got a cold, which was also fun, but the bottom line is something is decidedly out of whack. That feeling that you get right after finals, when all you can do is sleep for about a day and a half? I feel like that about four days out of the week. Each of the last three weekends has lost at least one day to sleep. Today I slept until four-thirty. In the afternoon. And I'm about ready to go back to bed (it's twenty to ten). My beloved chiropractor (hi Lauren) has put me on an adrenal supplement, which has helped. That in itself is scary. That this is an improvement.
I'm also really irked because it was warm and sunny today, almost fifty degrees, and I woke up just as it was getting grey. It was running weather. And once again there I wasn't. I have a race in a month. For which I haven't run more than three miles since....oh, November.
Last time we checked, my bloodwork was fine. I'm not experiencing any other thyroid symptoms. In fact, excepting the Martian Death Whooping Crane Plague last week (which everybody on campus had), I'm not experiencing any other symptoms at all, except excessive stupidity. But that may be all the Marxist theory I've been reading.
Speaking of which, guess what I have to go do. After I nap, maybe.