Here’s a little Emily Dickinson for mid-week, or a much more elegant way to say I’m tired. (I’ve thought it was Saturday the last two mornings I’ve woken up. Wishful thinking.)
CXXXIX
A long, long sleep, a famous sleep
That makes no show for dawn
By stretch of limb or stir of lid,—
An independent one.
Was ever idleness like this?
Within a hut of stone
To bask the centuries away
Nor once look up for noon?
– Emily Dickinson