If I wasn’t so tired, I would piece all these bits of writing together, and make a novel.

If I wasn’t so tired, I would dig over the garden, and plant interesting things.

If I wasn’t so tired, I would offer my help to struggling people – make dinners, look after children, visit the house-bound.

If I wasn’t so tired, I would re-decorate every room in the house, change the colour-scheme, learn how to make curtains.

If I wasn’t so tired, I would be an energetic, craft-tastic, experimental cook of a wife and mother, or use all the skills I once had to create a fabulous career.

If I wasn’t so tired…

But I am tired, and this is me, miraculously loved despite everything, or nothing.