Before my day even started, I knew. I fell asleep on the sofa last night, the same as every night. Usually I wake up around 3 am and go to bed for the rest of the night. This time I woke up and squinted at the windows. There was way too much light behind the mini-blinds. I tried to focus on the clock, but it was hard to believe it was 7:36 am.

Yeah, I guess that means I slept. It also means that I woke up with a stiff back and a stiff neck, and not much time to get the kinks out before the work day started. So something had to give, and I knew it. Before my day even started, I knew.

It's good that I finished most of the deadline work yesterday, because I was in no mood today. I had a few little things to get through before I could go to the post office this morning, but that was pretty much all I accomplished today. I don't know if it was exhaustion or relief, but something sapped all the energy out of me. I should be happy to be at the end of this month, but I can't feel anything right now but tired.

At least it's the weekend. Maybe I can recover before I have to start worrying about the next deadline. All I want to do is sleep, even with more work hanging over my head. Maybe I'll be better tomorrow. Maybe I'll wake up safe and comfy in bed, instead of twisted and crumpled on the couch. That would be a better way to start the day, any day.

It probably wasn't the right night for me to try a new recipe. I had the worst kitchen disaster of my career tonight. (Ha, career! That's what, a month and a half?) It was supposed to be bacon cheeseburgers smothered in sautéed mushrooms, but I overcooked the bacon and undercooked the hamburger. The mushrooms came out just right, but that was small consolation considering how I mangled to the rest of the meal. I tried to salvage it by turning it into a casserole, and... well... let me just say, thank goodness for catsup.