It’s a down day. The weekend was great; my sister-in-law was in town, and we got a chance to see my daughter’s choir concert. And the weather’s pretty good, with spring finally more or less definitively here (though that also brings the need to figure out lawn mowing soon). But it’s a down day nonetheless.
I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe because I’m still recuperating on sleep I lost over the last couple of weeks due to some urgent work deadlines. Or maybe it’s because I’m at “that” phase in my fiction writing process. (I don’t think I’ve commented here on my perception that each major undertaking includes Despair as a distinct, unavoidable project phase.) Or perhaps it’s allergies. Or laziness. Or some other as-yet-undefined factor.