Tired little bird

I am feeling nesty right now. I want to cook and garden and sew and care for people. I simultaneously feel too tired to even boil pasta or water a plant. How is that? What is that? I guess it is just 'where I am' ( I put that in quotes b/c it seems to be a Christian catch-phrase these days). I dream of cooking delicious, seasonal meals, but I end up eating Chic Fil A twice a day. I would love to sew some curtains, yet I can't make myself dust my blinds.
Some of it is (probably) cultural. As a hip, single woman it is expected that I do yoga and have a little urban garden and drink wine and eat tapas in my perfectly appointed apartment at least once a week. That is exhausting. On top of the booming career and flawless relationship I have cultivated. Not to mention my toned and tanned body. I am tired just typing it!
What I really want is a home, a place that feels comfortable and stable and safe. Someone to love on and kids to teach and cherish. People for whom to cook my crawfish etouffe and banana bread. Someone who makes me want to clean the house and keep fresh flowers on the bedside table.

Maybe I can start with a pie. And not sleeping on a couch.