My father is dying, and I don't have enough to worry about.
There are good days at the office, and there are bad days. And then there are the days when you wonder if having no excuse to call in sick that day (or a certain other day that comes back to haunt you) was a bad career move. This is the part of the job I hate the most. Nothing makes any sense, the lunatics are running the asylum, and I wish I could have retired after thirty years along with half the people I've known where I've worked all those years.
So I start waking up again with panic attacks at 2:30 in the morning, and can't go back to sleep. Right now, falling asleep on the couch watching a movie is looking like a good idea. Someone once said that, if 3:00 pm was the hour of mercy, then 3:00 am was the hour of darkness, "the devil's hour, as opposed to ... when Jesus was said to have been crucified."
Pray for me, if you have nothing better to do.