Pointlessness
There was absolutely nothing I fancied doing this afternoon. Being tired is one thing but I felt a sense of futility in everything I set out to do.
Rationalizing it as a financial decision I passed on the Khuda / Rosa Parks gig. I signed up for raiding instead and then promptly unsigned because I just couldn't make myself sit in front of a screen for another three and a half hours and do repetitive tasks. (We were going to learn a new heroic fight, quite akin to bashing your head to a solid concrete wall.) Then I drowsed for an hour, drifting between dream and reality, only I knew it would be a mistake to fall really asleep at only eight in the evening. I fired up Europa Universalis III (currently on sale on Steam) but I didn't get past the main menu. I wouldn't have been able to concentrate on the game anyway, I told myself.
Finally I resigned to do what I always do (apart from running) and did the teetering pile of washing up, scrubbed the sink, emptied the bins, replied long overdue emails and vacuumed the floor, like a good automaton.
The day before we agreed with a friend that people must crash into each other so badly because they are addicted to the euphoric feeling of being hugged.
