This morning I did not get up and swim. Usually, Thursdays are my favorite swimming day, because most people take that day off, so I get a nice serene pool. But I found that when the alarm went off, I was still tired, with a headache, and absolutely no desire to get out of bed. So I went back to sleep.

Last night I started reading Salman Rushdie’s “The Satanic Verses.” It’s the book that got him the death sentance from the Shah of Iran. (A $1.5 million bounty was on his head) So far, I’m unimpressed. I loved “Haroun and the Sea of Stories,” but this one is just to weird for me. I doubt I’ll finish it, which is saying something. (The last book I read that I didn’t finish was probably “Desiring God” by John Piper–three years ago)

All of this could probably be summarized by saying “I’m starting to feel depressed again.”

Funny how that works.