Sundayitis

The wind whooshes outside and I just ate cereal for dinner while watching America's Funniest Home Videos. I feel sort of pathetic, and am absolutely dreading the thud of work's start on Monday.

I've been bad about writing because I am overwritten. I must write from morning to evening at work, groping for topics of interest, trying to say something for the sake of it and it's exhausting me. My words are evading me and I'm grasping at the B-line. Stringing sentences together not worthy of being written. I've heard of burn-out before but to have it. I just feel finished, done. Which is so not lining up with reality.

The other thing going on is my father is sick. Five years ago he had his mitral valve replaced in his heart and recently he has been feeling overtired and overcold. He wrote it off as a cold; it ended up being endocarditis (heart infection). He's on a six-week course of IV antibiotics that he's serving himself up each day at home and then they decide how much lasting damage there is, and whether he can live with it, or whether they need to redo the surgery.

With everything I have, I hope they don't have to redo the surgery. It's been difficult thinking positive but I'm trying so hard. I went back east for a week to take care of my dad and that helped me feel not quite so useless. None of us have any control over the situation and that's hard to swallow.

I think I'll go to bed early tonight. Get a full night of dreams.