A Life Common

It's funny how tired I get with the new "regular" job. When I was running the old business, there were many times I had to pull all-nighters, but I would always have the energy to keep going. Here, with regular hours like the rest of the world, I find myself sleepy at 11pm.
The scary part is I feel too tired to be scared of what I'm becoming.
In and of itself, the job isn't tiring. Sure, the demands of a government job are somewhat more fastidious than most, but I'm not one to feel the urge to sleep earlier than one in the morning.
A few days ago, Anne learned how to slither a few centimeters forward on her tummy. She seems to have chosen walking as her main form of transportation. Instead of tucking her knees under her to crawl like most babies, she has learned to pull herself up to a standing position. She has done so grabbing on to the edge of the sofa and most recently she hoisted herself up with a firm grip on my nose. It hurt.
I'm off to bed. I feel like an old fart. I'm enjoying myself on the job, but something feels odd. Like I'm losing colour and turning black-and-white. Like I'm becoming like everyone else.

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