Sunday I couldn't settle.
Not the productive kind of restlessness, where the energy goes somewhere useful. The other kind. The kind where you move from room to room with something half-formed sitting in your chest, and the rooms don't help, and neither does the window, and the coffee you make goes cold because you kept forgetting it was there.
I tried work first. Q4 review, open on the screen. I read the same column of figures until they stopped being figures and became a pattern I was staring at rather than reading. Closed the laptop.
Tried the book. Same page I'd been on for two weeks. The sentences went in and came out without sticking.
Tried the flat rearranging the kitchen, which I do when I need something to be in my control and nothing more important presents itself. Organized t
