Weary. Exhaustion: pervasive.

Such is the way in the hangover of a weekend (same as every other fucking weekend) consisting of parental "visiting" and caretaking aka small talk and endless discussions of people I have no memory of–including my younger self–and yard work and not getting anything done except reaching this morning without killing anyone. Throw in the fallout from a Morkie/Jorkie tussle (The Morkie is fine but The Jorkie, while on the mend, is in rough shape – she's eating and drinking but generally sore and scared but that'll dissipate over the day) and having to chase Kirby across a hill and field when his leash broke on his first walking training day (this will be a long process to getting him ready to run with by February)while breaking up the second Morkie/Jorkie tussle (see note above) and you have a potent exhaustion cocktail.

I hate weekends. Longer weekends even more so. This is all I've got for you. The dog-children require sustenance.