Tiredness comes in many forms. The one I have now is the one where you sleep nine hours and wake up feeling mediocre and useless. Sitting at the river this morning didn't offer any particular inspiration; the vast amount of clean-up and organization my apartment needs, the dozens of emails waiting for responses, the couple of essays I've contracted to write are none of them able to call up any enthusiasm right now. The gym isn't tempting. And the book I'm supposed to be working on? Fuggedabahdit.

The only thing I have going for me is, I've been here before. It's post-launch and post-tour. A lot of that kind of time, especially on tour, is spent running on empty, just adrenalin getting you by. But adrenalin is a drug that will come through for you based on an iron-clad deal: use now, pay later. When that well is finally empty, it refills at its own rate and the refilling is pretty unpleasant. But eventually, balance is restored and you can putt along again in your normal way. Right now I don't believe that, but I know it's true because I remember it.