Oh, let me drown in a cup of milkshakes and marshmallows.

I had initially planned writing a thought-provoking blog post about how risky a venture child-rearing was, but I realised I was just too tired to do it.

Yes, I know my jobload is light, when compared to some of my compadres in the private sector, but that has not stopped the tolls of stress on me.

Persistent thoughts of work, all the way to the last few minutes before sleep resulted in increasing degrees of insomnia. Insomnia led to tiredness in the morning, no small joke when you consider what time I have to wake up. A quickening of adrenaline upon reaching work [possibly psychologically induced] leads to sheer fatigue at the end of the day, which lasts for weeks and weeks. Short-temperedness and irration follows. A vein starts throbbing at the back of your head, making you wary of impending migraines.

Past a certain point you just feel very, very tired with life. I miss the quiet times in an afternoon, where I could sit somewhere comfortable, drink a good cup of tea, and read a good book, and do nothing else for the day. In these times, such moments of solitude appear far and rare in between.

At least my job still leaves me scope for this, if I am willing to sacrifice some things. I'm trying to give myself more 'me' time these days to stop myself getting more tension headaches and potential fat, by leaving work a little earlier, sleeping more during the afternoons, or simply spending more time in the libraries. I think I've officially passed the energetics of the early twenties, and possibly now heading towards the sedateness of the late twenties and the early 30s.

Urgh. Get me my walking stick next.