Exhaustion

Wrote more on the novella this afternoon, incredibly productive day. But I'm exhausted, not just mentally but physically. Writing takes more out of me than it ever did when I was younger. The physical exhaustion is interesting since I'm doing no physical activity except typing, and yet I feel like I've been doing endless labor.

Dinner out tonight with H's son visiting from SF and her daughter who lives here, and I actually am looking forward to it. I'm sure it's because I got so much writing done today. Sometimes, when I haven't, a social engagement feels like an interruption in my rhythm, like the recent BBQ here. My mood of the day is so damn tied to how the writing has gone. The same for a good many writers, this. A curse of sorts.