No doubt about it, I've been mugged by an invisible vampire.
A little concerning, really, not that there's much to be done about it.
For the last two days (hence a missing post from my planned daily reporting-in) keeping to my planned five minutes of activity in every hour has not been an option. My body has been putting in quite firm requests for rather more rest, two to three hours at a stretch before admitting to the capability of doing any activity (without marked protest).
No obvious signs of an infection to bring this on, and I've not gone mad on activities, unless my memory has gone haywire too ("What's this half-built motorbike doing in my bedroom?" would be the sort of worrying clue, there.)
I've got to write a letter to my doctor (GP) anyway, tomorrow, so I'll bundle that all up and pass it on. Writing a letter because neither of us wants to make the trip to see the other unless we really have to: he's incredibly busy and I'm incredibly fatigued.
I've not left the house for about three weeks now, and I don't plan on it, except that between now and Christmas I've got to make at least one trip to town and a couple to the local village shop. The town trip is going to be a "cross off the next three days on the calendar" job.
Old theme... well, if I could arrange the world for my own personal benefit, boy would Angelina Jolie be surprised. She hasn't been, so I therefore conclude I can't.
"And so to bed."
I'll be trying even more of that, and see if can find an improvement that way.