It’s Sunday, it’s hot, and my brain feels like a fog has descended over it. Sometime during the past week, my out-of-control body (or so it feels) seems to have started reminiscing about those days spent feeling like a zombie during the first trimester and decided to re-enact them.
I read, I nap, I watch the cats, I experiment with a couscous salad and I drag myself out to buy some inari for lunch and temporarily wake up. I try to nag myself into doing things – there’s so much to organize for the baby, a house/flat that needs tidying, Japanese to study, stories to write. I need to prepare for the life with a screaming infant, a lack of work and freedom and a whole lot of housewifely duties that is creeping ever closer and I can’t quite summon the energy for it.
All I want to do is sleep.