exhaustedHere in Chicago, where the elementals wear pinky rings and smoke stogies, it is winter, five days short of Official Winter.
It is winter, and I am tired.
Rather than waste what infinitesimal scraps of energy still remain in this poor frame, I shall repeat (or largely repeat) what I reported over in LINDA:
"It took me two hours to go 12 miles. Don't know whether it's average or mean, but the speed at which I most often travelled was 13 miles per hour. More often, I wasn't traveling. Just sitting. No ploughs, no salt, five municipalities. And I had to park more than three blocks away from home, once I got into the neighborhood. The boys fed me. I managed to clean the kitchen, sort of. I am now contemplating brushing my teeth, but I can't yet go to bed, because the bedroom drapes are being washed and dried, and I must wait to help put them up. (Long story, not interesting.)
I am tired beyond the adequate telling of it. "
I am tired beyond the adequate telling of it. "
