Work decided to rise up and clobber me the last couple of weeks, and especially this week. Wall-to-wall meetings and classes and appointments mean that simply looking at my calendar induces claustrophobia, and yet I have to keep looking at it to make sure I get to the right things at the right times. Cruel world.

I would like to cope with this by getting home, kicking back, hanging out with friends in person or online, reading, writing, playing with the cat… all the normal things I do to relax. My body, though, has other ideas. Apparently I am now on a strict 8:30 bedtime, and like any good 2-year-old, things fall swiftly apart after that point. Of course, it never feels like my fault at the time. It feels like the merciless jabs inflicted by a relentless bully of a life. It feels like I’ll never catch up, never be healthy, never have a family of my own, alienate my friends…

But really I just need to pay attention, realize I’m tired, and go to bed even if it does feel ridiculously early and like I’ve had no time to do more than eat dinner. Apparently 11 hours of sleep at a stretch is the key to sanity, at least for now. Maybe I’ll even remember that at 8:30 tonight when I’m getting off of work. Maybe I’ll just go straight to bed when I get home. Maybe.

I wish I’d remembered that last night.