It takes its toll, doesn't it?
Coupled with the case of shingles I managed to acquire recently, I seem to have been able to do nothing except sleep, eat, colour-in and game.
My writing has suffered. My fitness has suffered. I haven't painted in ages. I've been listless and utterly unable to work whatsoever.
The book I was supposed to have finished in April has yet to be completed.
The digital painting that should have been finished at the start of the year remains undone.
That painting series I wanted to have finished by Christmas so I could have a small art showing hasn't even been started.
I stopped my Welsh lessons.
Sometimes, though, you need to do that. You need to go walk-about. You need to leave everything behind and be blank for a bit.
The problem with me, it seems, is that every time I get back to work, something else strikes.
But, I feel that I am at last coming back to myself. The lingering fatigue from shingles is fading, and I'm in a bit of a better head space in the past couple of days. I think I can start easing myself back into work. First up, a couple of newsletters.
Then if things are going well, I might try a few more words on this damned manuscript. But today, I think all I can manage is the newsletters.
And now I must get to work.