writing

“It Was a Really Peopley Day Out Today”

That’s my answer when my husband asks why I am totally spent, killing brain cells by crushing candy with a glazed over catatonic appearance.  

It’s been a peopley week. 

I’m pretty sure the peopley-ness has exceeded my threshold. Because when that happens I turn into a pile of oxygen recycling warmth on my chair.  And that’s where I am right now. 

I have dinner to make, Christmas stuff to organize, and a giant to-do list that I’m ignoring.  

Peopling sucks me dry. It’s not that I don’t like people, it’s just that the the stimulation of people requires enormous energy from me in a fundamental way.  Every noise, every sight, every smell, every sensation, they all take little nibbles from me (especially the noise, exponentially the noise). I don’t even notice them they’re so small, but the cumulative impact is dramatic. Before I know it I’m but a shell. 

And now that I’m home, it’s time to pull out my charger and plug in. 

My chair is my charger, and quiet is my outlet. I’m plugged in and trickle charging. 

It might take all night. 

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