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It’s Sunday.  It’s February.  It’s freezing out.  There’s a storm coming.  I ate too many carbs last night. I’m bored. If I wasn’t undergoing chemotherapy, I know these would all be perfectly acceptable reasons to stay horizontal for the day. And it would not surprise me if half of New England is hunkering down into some good old fashioned on-the-couch Stiredunday tired.

But it’s four days after my last round of chemotherapy… after finishing the super-hero course of steroids…as my white and red blood cell counts begin to head into the crapper, there’s a level of tired that’s unbelievable.  I’d never use the expression “dead tired” which seems far too hyperbolic. And since I own a very active border collie, there is no such thing around here as “dog tired”.  But “bone tired” certainly seems fitting today.  Maybe even “Bone marrow tired.”  Perhaps it’s nature’s way of making sure I can’t do anything but stay confined to my germ-free couch.  I’m confident that in a day or two, I’ll be back roaming the aisles of Bed, Beth & Beyond or color-coding my tax files.  But for now I’m going to give myself permission to bring all the oars in the boat and just coast.  I hope, if you need to do so, you’ll give yourself permission, too.