Yesterday was Sunday -- typically Attempt-To-Get-Decluttered day. This did not happen.
The necessary quantity of caffeine in parts per milliliter did not make their way into ye old bloodstream until noonish; even this provided me with so little energy that I accomplished little all day but marveling at how little energy I had. I just dragged my carcass slooowwly around like Eeyore and spent most of the day reading "Work of Art" by Sinclair Lewis (1934).
Having no energy to do what needs to be done (like put away clutter) annoys the hell out of me.
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