My eyes are scratchy, neck stiff, head pounding, fingers sore.
You’d think, by age 37, Id’ve learned NOT to stay up until the wee hours of the morning. What can I say? It’s my Mother’s fault. She made me go to Bee last night, so by the time I got home, I’d gotten my second wind…that, and I flipped over to Lifetime Movie Network and got hooked on one of those true crime dramas. (Wow, thanks kids, for teaching me how to shift the blame!)
I managed to cram in some shut-eye before rousing the Co-Defendants to get ready for school, hoping their eyeballs wouldn’t roll back in the sockets, heads pitching forward into bowls of apple crunch cereal I’d groggily shoved into their haggard faces.
So, what do I have to show for three whole hours of sleep?
Two bound quilts…and that hangover feeling without the alcohol consumption. Pass the aspirin.