The alarm went this morning, and I got up full of enthusiasm.

“Great!” I think – I am going to make great inroads into that contract that has been gathering dust on the shelf, and I am going to produce one of my best blog posts to date.

Then I will have a little nap, and maybe whack into the book and write another 50,000 words.

I greeted Sandy and made myself a mug of tea.  I sat down at the computer and switched on.

As the power surged into the computer, it drained out of me.

I’m sitting here looking out the window wondering where the fuck all my bright ideas have gone.  The act of powering up a laptop has leeched all my creative juices.  I can’t think.  I’m in a brain-fug.

I had an urgent email from a client saying he had a huge problem.  I was going to reply and say I wasn’t a psychiatrist, but then a portion of the brain [about three cells] kicked in and told me that I could fix the problem.  I fixed it.  I don’t know how, but I did.  and the client was very pleased, so it was worth setting the alarm.

But now I’m back in the brain-fug again.  I know I’m supposed to be doing something but I can’t think what.

I was going to write a steamy article on crime and punishment along the lines of Bock’s post, which I would suggest you read.  I feel strongly about it, but not at the moment, because I don’t feel strongly about anything at the moment.

It’s not a hangover.  It’s not lack of sleep.  It’s hardly the after effects of the gallons of strong coffee I had on Friday morning, when I met a friend in the village for a very pleasant chat.

Is it old age?  Is senility finally kicking in?  Are my batteries running flat?  Is it Global Warming? 

I’m worried.

But I’m too apathetic to give a dog’s bollox.