Clean-up day. We have a visitor coming tonight, and an entire house to relocate over the coming weeks. It is exhausting just to think of it, I am finding. I sit here between breaks – between breaths – and try to find just what it is that tires me. I am puffing, and as far as I can see there is no valid reason for it. There must be a valid reason, but I cannot see it.
Weighed down, possibly, by thought: contemplation that I never realized could be so heavy. Though I already knew that thoughts were a burden, I did not see that they carry a physical weight. But they do. My shoulders feel as though they are being pushed to the floor while a separate force pushes against my forehead, making each step require the effort of three or four normal ones.
There appears to be a lot happening with my life at the moment, and the more of it that remains on my mind, the more it takes on the nature of a quagmire. And in the middle of the quagmire all I want is to rest, but if I do not proceed I shall sink.