Battle Fatigue

This has nothing to do with the serious nature of battle in parts east/southeast: Middle East.

This has to do with that blasting heat on the other side of our door.  Here I am, a mentally and physically tired, pathetic, and bored-STIFF person who is hating, HATING the weather outdoors.

HATING.
BORED.
CABIN FEVER.  In the wrong, oh, so wrong, season.  Winter cabin fever, please come, come to me! 


I get up before dawn.  I sip a cup of coffee. (read: teacup, because a big ol' mug of coffee gets cool before one hits the bottom, so why?  A teacup of coffee is hot to the last sip.)  I venture outside to the best part of my day:  Sun is not up, but dawn's early light is.  Sun will arrive in one hour...

I run with the dogs.  I water every little plant that has been planted.  I plant myself in the kiddie pool that I purchased as a joke for that Spouse o' Mine, but now we realize how much we enjoy that kiddie pool. ((My life is so rich. Yes. So, so rich.)

And then I come indoors.

104º

I have not gone back outside.  I've sent that Spouse o' Mine out, and the College Boy out, but I have stayed indoors.

I make a lousy shut-in.  I am bored.  Tired of the TV, the radio, the internet.  I have read.  (I Am a Cat by Soseki Natsume)  I have listened to John Rutter compositions on Spotify.  (Thank you, College Boy, for Spotify.)  I have quilted, made gazpacho, painted my toenails, and played my cello till I am convinced I will never be Yo Yo Ma.

Battle Fatigue.

Come, Dear Winter, Be Our Guest.