I ran out of words.

At least that is how Patrick explained it to me.

I came home from a ridiculous day at work and I was strangely silent… Especially for me.  Because I was tired.  And hungry.

He explained that he once read somewhere that women generally use more words in a day than men.  And that I must have a high word quota based on my job and the amount I generally banter on.  However, my silence was a sign that I must have reached or exceeded quota.

Kind of makes sense when you think about it, I guess.

I don’t think there is an actual number, but after so long with people and being social and chatting away, there does come a point where I don’t feel like talking anymore… To anyone.

In fact, I was so tired last night, I didn’t even want to pray.  Bad sign.  I was just so sick of talking (I did, however, wind up having a lovely evening at a bonfire with good friends… and crashed even more thereafter).

It is good that God doesn’t have a word quota  Or we would all be in trouble.

In school, I remember having to write papers and there would often be a recommended word count or a minimum and maximum.  I must confess, meeting the minimum was never really an issue for me.  My problem was always the maximum.  I would edit forever.  Or, if it were page limits, I was the master of altering letter spacing and line spacing ever so slightly, so as to not be busted for being a bit over.

Talking can be like that too.  I am a fast talker to fit more in at once (at least that is one advantage to being a fast talker, particularly on oral exams).

Like in papers, once you run out of things to say, though… That is the end.  It is tough to stretch things out beyond a natural ending point.

I guess that is what happened to my speech.

Some good alone time and sleep will remedy that, I am sure.

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