It's 8:27. He's asleep in his crib, though I have no idea for how long. I don't feel like knitting; I don't feel like cooking; I don't feel like cleaning. No reading. No drawing. No watching TV. I don't even feel like writing. But I don't want to do nothing.
I am kind of stuck.
I must be tired.
I think I should probably go to bed.
Too bad I don't know how to put myself to sleep.