This deters me from breeding

It’s not been a good week, people. I added up all of the hours of sleep that I have had since last Friday night and that sum total is 13. Hours. In a week. Without the aid of meth. The fact that I am not swimming in a pool of my own drool at the moment is astounding…an act of God.

I knew things were bad today when a client, who I had put on the reformer with the command of “Do ye leg presses!” looked up at me after what was presumably a very long while and said “Um…how much longer do you want me to do these?” her quad muscles bulging under the strain. I looked at her, snapped out of my stupor and was all “Oh HI! When did you get here?” Clearly, I need a nap.

Ambien has failed me. Deep breathing has failed me. I am so tired that I burst into tears today when I couldn’t unscrew the cap off of a particularly tight bottle of water. The shadows beneath my eyes have taken on a bruise like purple. I should not be operating large machinery as I went whipping by my exit on the freeway this morning and only realized it four miles later when I was provided with the option of heading to Santa Cruz on 17W. What, HO!

So this weekend I am dedicating to rest. Which is really very boring, but necessary, otherwise I believe I’m going to end up wandering the streets of Mountain View, rending my garments and clutching at people’s ankles going “WHY CAN’T I SLEEP?! SWEET GOD WHY?” But first, I’m going to pen a letter to my mother, thanking her for this particular genetic trait. I called her earlier this week to wail into the phone about my fatigue. From the other line, I heard her take a long sip of her tea, pause and then say “Well, child, just think, this is doing wonders to prepare you for motherhood!”

In which case, I’m totally getting my tubes tied.