There are periods of time when the mind is dispossessed of ideas, scheming, or plans. There is nothing to construct, build, or plot. Nothing to think about, really, and in the absence of compelling issues the mind falls silent. It tries to muster up some cause upon which to employ itself but passion is lacking and it falls asleep. There it sleeps not soundly but in preparation, in readiness, to instantly rise again but opportunities still do not come so it languishes further.
Thus it is with me today. Whatever needs to be done has been done, can't be worked on yet, things are on hold, interest is low, of drama there is none. The weather is good, food is readily available, and there's a sense of inner satisfaction. The ego cannot operate under these heinous conditions!
If I turn on the TV, there are numerous life or death dramas to choose from, the same with books. There is fascinating science to pour over on the internet were I so inclined today to go there. What about the newest in A.I.? Where does our commander in chief stand? What's the latest? Ach, none of that fails to inspire. I shall not even lift a mouse in pursuit of it.