Bleary in the morning.

Been kind of wiped out this week, and for good reason.

For days I've been covering for someone who's on vacation, minding the desk from my perch at home. Which is good, in that it means billable hours for me, but the other clients I have still need tending. Fortunately, there have not been many explosions and freakouts. Some, but not many. 

This has also coincided with some hot and humid weather, though, and while we are blessed to have air conditioning, the dog still needs to be outside a good bit. That's the way of his people. However, then he gets overheated, comes inside, and drinks a gallon of water, which sets off the Circle of Pee, and we have to go out again. 

I'm glad he's staying hydrated -- his uncle, the late Nipper, was not good about it, and once had to have a Quasimodo-esque lump of water injected into his back. Strangest thing. Can you imagine humans being treated like that for dehydration? 

"What's that big lump, Maggie? Third breast implant?"

"Nah, just neglected my Gatorade."

The big downside is that Izzy, America's Sweetheart (currently America's Sweatheart), has to go out a couple of times in the night. It's made the week more difficult to navigate, let's put it that way. 

In my career I've been paid salaries and hourlies, and anyone who needs to learn the value of a dollar needs to work for hourly wages. That's a cold fact. Every kid should do it. When you get paid by the hour, whenever an expense comes up -- say, you have to part with $700 for a car repair, I did this month -- your mind immediately goes to the most annoying, frustrating, diabolical project that you had recently, and you factor that into the money spent. I worked hour after hour cleaning the sewer backup into that guy's basement, and it didn't even pay half of what it cost me for the car repair, an expense I didn't expect. I didn't get a dime's worth of fun out of the money. 

I always think of the most crappy job I had to do to get the dough. I don't think I'm unusual in this. 

I'd say I've been doing the editorial equivalent of cleaning sewage, but there is no equivalent of cleaning sewage. I will say it's been very little fun, and the money isn't going toward anything fun either, and I'm exhausted. 

Added to all this is worry's little side hustle, the sleeplessness. This worrying is exhausting! Fortunately, it's also keeping me awake at night! So when the dog wakes me up, I'm up for hours. 

Next week may be better, but it certainly won't be well. Life is tough. I'm tired. I sometimes wonder how any of us get by.