Maybe it was too much to take on NaNoWriMo, be hired to write knock-off ebook versions of cliffsnotes and teach at the same time. 


I was hoping that wouldn't have been an excuse, but it seems it's gotten the best of me. Maybe I can catch up on my word count in a couple of weeks when the kids are out for Thanksgiving. I'm looking forward to the rest. 


That perpetual tired that I thought I left behind in September has reappeared since the accident. I find myself drifting when during independent reading when the wind is running its course through the 6 graders gardens behind my room while inside 12 small bodies mouth-breath through their books. My hands are chapped from excessive washing and the biting November air. 


Winter is here and I find myself wishing I could go back to that small single room in Meadowlands when I could sit in silence for hours, curled up in my twin bed alone. The silence only accentuated by the occasional pang of my radiator struggling to break the cold or creek of uneven floor board as a freshman sneaked past the nuns and into her boyfriend's room.  


My back hurts, my knees ache, and my right ankle is swollen to the size of a small apple by the time I get home.  


I should work but all I can think of is sleep now that I'm full.