It’s late. I’m tired.
Wait, that’s not it.
I’m exhausted. I’ve been up for hours. Rough, I know. It is when the baby was up most of the night before and now he is finally down for the night. Or, for the next 15 minutes. Yeah, that sounds more like it.
Since he’s asleep I’m supposed to be asleep, but I just really want to straighten up a bit so I don’t have to wake up to a messy place. Tip-toe, whisper, all of that jazz. I’m doing great until…
I’m in the bedroom, yeah, the bedroom that he’s sleeping in, and I’m trying to just gather a few things up to throw in the wash all while trying to hold my drooping eyelids open and…BAM.
I tiptoe my ass right into the door.
Why not? I’m already a zombie, let’s just add a concussion.