An empty tank

It's been brewing since before Thanksgiving, this drained, empty, exhausted state. I'm not sure what causes it, as it's not as if I'm out dancing the night away, or even running hither and yon with holiday preparations. Maybe it's the rapid changes in the weather, the unseasonable highs followed closely by thirty degree temperature drops that's playing havoc with the inside of my head.

Whatever the cause, I stayed home today. After e-mailing in around five-thirty, I went back to bed. The next time my eyes popped open, it was quarter to ten. Combined with an additional two hour nap this afternoon, this may well be the recipe for a sleepless night.

Or not; I'm pretty tired.

We are creeping up on the winter solstice; while sunny days have been the norm this year, the short duration of sunlight is taking a toll. I sit with my back to the window in my office (the window looks out on the backside of a church), rarely catching a glimpse of outside unless I'm wandering around the office. As someone else says, this is the time of the troll people (insert Dilbert accounting troll joke of your choice here). Leave home in the darkness, return in the darkness.

Ordinarily, the amount of quilting I've done lately would help to lighten the mood; the full spectrum lamp I use to light things up in the sewing studio does wonders for the morale as well as making fabric colors look true to life. Alas, I've not yet set up the studio, as everything needs to be moved/covered/put away for the Great Painting Adventure in three weeks. The CFL bulbs in the dining room fixture just don't have the same effect as the full spectrum Ott light.

A book, a fire and some hot chocolate sounds like a plan for the evening, provided I can focus on the book. The raging headache that goes along with everything is still lurking around the edges of my head, waiting to sneak back in. I don't plan to encourage it.