Running on Empty

Some mornings, the words just don’t want to come. Today is one of those mornings. I thought maybe I’d write an art history post, but nothing has clicked yet. Maybe tomorrow inspiration will strike, but today, I’m drawing a blank.

Part of the problem is that work has been so busy lately as I catch up from when I was out. Yesterday was productive—I actually managed to get quite a bit done—but by the time I got home, I was wiped out. It felt like I had run a marathon without leaving my desk. Of course, there’s still plenty more to tackle today. Somehow the pile never gets smaller, it just rearranges itself into new and interesting shapes.

Right now, though, I don’t exactly feel like conquering that pile. I’m sitting here, yawning, wishing energy would magically appear. But I also haven’t had coffee yet, and let’s be honest—without coffee, I’m basically running on fumes. A cup or two might just be the miracle cure. Isabella has already had her breakfast and is now looking far more content and energized than I feel. I swear that cat has better time management than I do. Her daily schedule mostly consists of sleeping, staring out the window at the birds, eating a snack, and then fitting in a few more naps before starting the whole cycle over again.

So here’s to coffee, to productivity (hopefully), and to finding a spark of inspiration when it decides to arrive. Maybe tomorrow I’ll have an art post to share, but for now, I’ll just share the honest truth of a sleepy morning trying to find its rhythm.