Today was supposed to be great. I was going to get a lot done. I had a decent day-mostly-off yesterday, and even though I was feeling tired, I figured I'd get a good night's sleep and then be really productive. I don't know whether it's the allergy meds or what, but I started feeling soggy. I tried to write, but I realized after a while that I was just poking at the text and not really doing anything useful. So I washed a bunch of dishes and went for a walk. That was supposed to help, but I still didn't feel much like writing. So I worked on my TV backlog, and then sanguinity called and I complained to her about it all. We did agree that if we were offered the chance to switch lives with a random person out of the approximately 6.4 billion others in the world, the odds aren't good that we'd get a better life. So I'm really complaining. What I should do is go to bed, so I can get a lot done tomorrow. That'll be GREAT!