I’m so tired, I am flagging and waiting for home time. I know that I’m not allowed to feel tired because I chose to have a child and that therefore robs me of the right to complain about any malady that is infant-inflicted.
The bottle of Coke is emptying quickly and I have got rid of all but one of the finished cups of tea on my desk. The last drops of caffeine course through my veins egging on my lethargic limbs to keep going. My fingers are conserving energy by shutting down the muscles so my digits are not as much typing as falling upon the keyboard.