Yesterday I felt I had been hit by a truck. I felt so completely drained, exhausted, flattened, I could barely move out of my chair.
I have done nothing to warrant this. Apparently it would fit with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, but I am loathe to ascribe everything to a potential diagnosis. I am so fed up, I could cry. Also the ankle whose ligament I tore in January, that is swollen and painful.
So low. Still, I can scrape up a crumb of comfort. I hadn't properly sorted socks etc for years, and I scraped every bit of underwear together and washed and dried it over Tuesday and Wednesday and yesterday I spent pairing socks. Identifying the different underwear for OH and darling father was a bit of a challenge, but otherwise I was impressed with myself. Little bear 'helped' a bit. So that is something.
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