Done much more than I could do. Hurt everywhere and my head's on fire with this damn cold. Breathe hard through the chest and back pain. Open, open to the coming weekend; hope that if the door is open wide enough the dead hand of anti-climax, depression will stay outside waving wildly and not bother to come in.
Today's forecast was for ninety degrees, which never happens here in October. Darkness at 7 pm and still hot means you're not in England, but much further South. I was right then: these past few weeks have been in a strange country.
I know some people don't mind working all the time and would not understand my distress and exhaustion. We all have our own limits and, wherever they lie, to be repeatedly pushed through them is perhaps a good definition of stress.