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.