Secondborn is, however, finally shaking this stuff off. So last night I finally got a full night's sleep. About nine hours, in fact. And naturally, I woke up feeling like I'd been run over by a truck. Like:
::grooooooaaaaaaaan:::I don't usually drink caffeinated sodas, but this morning was an exception: I didn't think I was going to make it out the door without something. So I poured some Coke down my throat while I was showering, and then I was all like:
Wassa'? Whi-? Wudda... 'Larm clock? Already? Issa... can... wobble... Right. Right, I'm awake. I'm... zzzzzzzz Uh-wha? Oh, right. Out of bed, into the shower, wake the boy, get moving. Out, shower, boy, moving. Right. Moving. Istargelblarg...
(Continued below the cut)
I swear, it was just like that. Except less grey. And not so many statues.
So I'm moving, and I got the boy to school and myself to work. There's even a reasonable chance that the house won't sound like a plague ward anymore. At least, not for a little while. Of course, sooner or later the caffeine is going to wear off, doubtless taking my will to live along with it, but for the moment I'm awake and getting things done. Huzzah!