Here is a story I wrote a couple of years ago for a term paper on Children's Literature. It was written in half an hour, while I was at office (in the middle of the night) while V was at his place and we sorted out the illustration over the chat.
Seems like a long time ago that V would get excited enough over his work to tell me about it. Nowadays, even if I ask he couldn't be bothered.
But yes, most days we are both too tired to want to talk much. I think. Ok, let's say that he's just too tired to listen because I am never too tired to talk.