Jolted awake.
It’s 3am.
Once woken, my mind whirs, like a machine without an off switch or an emergency stop!
Searching for one, I uncover the thoughts I’ve buried at the bottom of the laundry basket in my mind all day: the presentation next week, the doctor’s appointment, and that annoying builder who’s fleeced me for thousands but I still need to finish.
Other thoughts escape from the dirty laundry, like gremlins running a muck stopping me getting to sleep.
These are the stressing hours.
Having chased the fiends round and round, I finally… fall… back… to…
”Daddy!”
It’s 5:57am.