Thursday, September 9, 2010

Work, sleep, work, sleep, work

Still here but buried up to my neck with work. When I get home, I only have time to play with Malik and wait for him to sleep, so I can sleep myself. So tired this week.

"I'm sleepy too mommy. Let's...."


This brings me to this poem -

Just whisk me off to lands afar
From work, sleep, work, sleep, work -
That grinding train of rhythmic pain
Called ‘Work, sleep, work, sleep, work.’

I'm sure we can all relate. The work, sleep, work, sleep, work rhythm can be maddening. I think I'd like to buy a break. Good thing tomorrow's a holiday. Yey.  
(The rest of the poem is here.)

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