So last night - along about 9 o'clock - I basically hit the wall. Those 50+ hour work weeks, rush hour commutes, small people needing mac n' cheese, and that darn Mt. Laundry will do that to a girl once in awhile.
The hitting of the wall came upon me so suddenly I didn't even have time to really alert my husband. I mean, one minute I was brushing my teeth getting ready to settle in with a good book, and the next minute I was passed out with my headband all askew.
But I'm sure the hubs already knew what was coming. He loves me in sickness, in health, and in bio-rhythm meltdown.
And he also knew something was seriously wrong when I left a bowl on uneaten Reeces Pieces on my nightstand.
I may skip washing my face or even donning a decent pair of pajamas. But when I diss the chocolate, it's a near crisis.