The last month has been an extraordinarily full one. It won't soon blend into the background of my grown-up existence, like so many of its predecessors during my time in Tucson. But I'm realizing today just how tired it has left me. Part of my exhaustion is the result of the annual late-May dessication, as the relative humidity plummets towards 5% and the heat rises to the century mark. Part of it is surely triggered by body memories from years past. When you combine that annual lethargy with the emotional vortex I've been swirling in lately, though, the sense of having nothing left in the tank is raised to the third power. I can't remember feeling this tired when I was healthy. It's all I can do to stumble, cans and bottles in hand, toward the recycling bins in the garage. I have a lot I want to write about it, but it looks like it will have to wait for a time when my energy has been restored.