I feel as if I am slogging through mud. I wake in the morning and have the urge to just stay in bed all day. I am tempted to wander around the house in my cozy bathrobe and Ugg boots, with occasional collapses onto the couch to rest after the exertion of going downstairs.
In contrast to my external lack of energy, my brain can't stop the whirls of color and pattern flying by. I lay in bed at night and think about quilts I saw, what to do with that one piece of fabric I've had in my closet for the last year, how to finish the border on an almost-done top that is folded on the UFO pile.
And the reality is that once I'm upright each morning, I have to force myself to the computer, open up my work files, and turn down the volume on the right side of my brain so I can summon some lawyerly thinking to deal with the pile of work on my desk. I'm analyzing the legal definition of criminal negligence and trying to ignore the thoughts about how to quilt my pink quilt top as they fly past my inner eye.
So here I sit, yellow pads of paper scattered to the sides of my keyboard. I'm getting down to work. Just ignore the doodles of quilting designs all over them, okay?