Today my ass is dragging ten feet behind me. That means I’m tired as hell. What did I do to get that tired? Nothing. That is my usual routine: do nothing. That is until it is time to eat; then, I eat.
My sleep last night was broken by four trips to the commode, each one, two hours after the last. I can even tell I am tired when I have to stop typing to make corrections too many times in one sentence. The lack of energy I experience may be related to the beer I drank at the Wurstfest on Thursday night. If I had stuck with hard liquor I might feel better.
I am so tired that I have no desire to bash Kamala Harris, who is running for president. How much worse can she screw the country than what she has done already? At my age, It won’t matter that she turns us into a communist state because I won’t be here to hate it.
Yesterday, I tried sending my daughter a copy of my book, “BAC-British American Colonies, A World Without the United States.” It was too large a file to transmit, so, being the good father that I am, I printed it single-spaced on two sides and bound it with a cover. It came out so nice that I’ll make another copy to pass around to my friends for review. Their comments will help me decide whether to pursue finding a local (USA) publisher or Kindle Books at Amazon.
Right now, I ditching this post to take a nap.
Filed under: Aging, Biography, Funk | Tagged: Naps, Tiredness |
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