My fourth decade started out rough. Thankfully, most of the gory details are beginning to blur, but from what I remember, there was vomit and some whining along the lines of, "I'm tired and sick and 30 and pregnant."
My poor husband didn't know what to do. He tried a congratulatory "Happy birthday," but that only ramped up the tears of self pity. A long hug helped a bit. So did the flowers he personally delivered to my office later that day.
The past two weeks of work have been exhausting. So much to do, so little time, so many other people's emergencies to deal with. Add the fact that my body has been hijacked by a karate-kicking tuna fish and, well, it's no wonder last week found me at the end of my emotional road.
I'm starting this week off with a much-needed sick day and hoping this decade begins to turn for the better soon.
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