At Least You Can Eat a Cow

Feeling like shite this morning. Brain fog. Dullness. Tiredness. What's-the-point-ness. Only a few steps away from the depths of despair... wherever they are.

I want to be writing. But I can't. I need a place to work. I need a desk. I need a chair. (Excuses, excuses!) I need a new brain and a kick in the arse, too, but I don't suppose I'm going to get either one.

I feel like I'm losing my mind. Not in a going-crazy sense or a having-an-episode sense, but in a little bits of brain oozing out my ears and swirling down the drain while I look on in complete apathy sense.

I'm feeling very dull and stupid. I'm about as useful as a cow at the moment. Less. At least you can eat a cow. And I'm a hell of a lot less interesting than a cow.

I can't decide if this is depression kicking off its shoes and settling in for an extended stay, or if I am just tired or if my thyroid needs a boost. I should probably schedule a blood draw.

In the meantime, "Moooooooo."