Rest for the Restless
The words come like train cars, each an individual unit barely connected to its predecessor. The fatigue fills my thoughts like old London fog, trapped beneath the city since the turn of the century. Heavy lids and a heavy head suggest I should fall quickly to bed.
Yet I am filled with such drive to make the most of all my time when the children sleep, so I put off sleep desiring to accomplish something, yet too tired to do so. Unfulfilled I finally turn to bed only to rise without sufficient rest. It is my hope that if I get this rest, I will be able to pursue some of the projects I have in my mind.
So it is that I cut tonight short and look for sleep.
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