I'm horridly, brutally exhausted, and my heart is eating itself. I tried to keep myself going by going to Des Amis (rocking my librarian-like glasses and a pair of leggings as pants, which is a sure sign I've reached the end of my days), where I had chicken and two glasses of wine and some quality time with my journal. And it definitely helped to center me, even if it didn't make me less tired. They take care of me in a v. home-like way, and I feel safe and warm there even if it's weird that I'm sitting alone in the lounge with my laptop like a crazy person while other fancy people make out and enjoy each other's company.
But their caretaking means that I can get work done even when I'm too tired to contemplate the idea of continuing. I didn't write tonight, but I wrote down all the thoughts my conference experience spurred about what I need to do for my writing career in the next few months. And I followed up with some people post-conference - not everyone I want to follow up with, but a more admirable effort than what I usually make twenty-four hours after getting home.
However, I think it's time for me to take a break from screens and try to sleep nine or so hours so that tomorrow isn't quite so brutal - goodnight!
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