01/10/2020 - Tired

This is my emergency blog post for when I can’t even write blogs because my health is being a problem. So, this is the best way I can explain what having Chronic Fatigue is like. When I try to read a book and my Chronic Fatigue is acting up, this is sort of what happens in my head:

The engineering bay of the Phoenix Gold, the flagship of the imperial Fleet, was bustling. Huster was busy welding an engine bay back together when Pink strode up to her.
"That piece of crap gave out on me in the last battle." Pink thumped the side of the Dominica class fighter with a gloved hand in a motion that seemed caught between irritation and sentimentality. "Is it finally time to upgrade it to a mark IV engine?"
Huster didn't look away from her work. "Not with the rebels hounding us every ten minutes. Sorry, Pink, you'll have to work your miracles with the tools you're given. Don't worry, I'll get your ship patched for you. You're pretty much singlehandedly keeping the fleet together. The way you caused a chain reaction in the power core of that rebel ship was remarkable!"
Pink grinned. "Thanks, Huster, but never mind about that. I really came to talk about the bearings on the swivel chair. They've got really squeaky."
"Squeaky?"
"Yeah, like... They squeak. Not all the time, but a lot, you know?"
"Oh, sorry to hear that. I can probably fix it. All is need to do is ranto into the trinin and isolp restic tanges sdalingfoeth feessing eesn sadlp."
"Rittin casstlop?"
"Drantil sassan."
"What about trimming the leather so it doesn't scrape against the base of the chair?"
Pink renninged and trudit stantily.
"Standinil tup granforth."
[Michael stops reading the book]