It is eleven o'clock. I need to be asleep. I have to get up early to take the freeloaders to scout camp.
Alas, laundry needs to be folded. Spiderman underwear and Cinderella nighties don't care that I should be in dreamland now.
Lunches need to be made. Bologna sandwiches with two slices of cheese and a smidge of Duke's mayo could care less how tired I am.
I have procrastinated long enough with email, Facebook, and watching fireflies through the window (who also don't care that I have to sleep soon).
Every night my life is punctuated by the arrival eleven o'clock. I feel that dreadful tug of time at its end. Time I want to spend but it is already spent. I must pay the debt of sleep, and sometimes like a child, I avoid it.
ZZZZ
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