The Unbearable Tiredness of Being

There are some days when you are far too tired to do work that unfortunately has to be done. This means that you ignore the blandishments of the warm bed on the cold rainy day, steel your spirit, and plunge (dispiritedly) into the morass of the task.

Then you work. You type out your fragmented thoughts, the pieces of stuff that have to be stuffing in the great turkey of a job that you're doing. Everything sounds unlikely, badly put together, a stitched-up thing.

If you're lucky, you may end up with a work of unconscious genius and you can praise God from Whom all blessings flow; it is obvious that you can't be praising yourself, nor the random workings of the universe.

If you're not, well, you end up having done necessary work that looks somewhat like it should have been a blog post. At least you can take heart that if the universe is deterministic, you had no choice. And of course, if it isn't, then it's just too bad.