I’m completely and utterly exhausted. And when I get tired, I get cranky. Bear-just-having-been-woken-up-out-of-its-hibernation cranky. Mountain-lion-that-hasn’t-been-fed-in-three-days cranky. Koala-bear-jostled-out-of-its-eucalyptus-tree cranky (I hear those cute, cuddly looking bears are actually real nasty beasts). My recent attempts to stay decaffeinated merely seem to make it worse – not that caffeine would refresh me, really, but it might give me the energy to fool myself into thinking I’m not as tired as I am. Two hours (one way!) on the Beltway this morning didn’t help, either. Bumper to bumper traffic, moving so slowly as to lull you into near snoozeville, and so slow that the ride is interminably long to be fighting drooping eyelids. I remember being tired in college, but not as tired as this, and not for as long as this has been – weeks now, really, where I’ve stolen any chance to take a nap, and spent hours of afternoons hoping fervently that Cora would take a nap so that I could, too.

I think I’m going to bed. If I make it that far before just falling asleep. The pool table’s at least long enough to stretch out, and I wouldn’t have to make it up the stairs.