I’m brewing a pot of mid-afternoon coffee in hopes that it will carry me through the rest of the day. When I’m tired like this, I’ve got no patience nor stamina; tolerance to all things noisy is reduced to nothing. Knowing I’ll feel this way doesn’t seem to be much of a deterrent, however, even when I pointedly remind myself of the near-guarantee of burning eyes and brain-ache. Staying up late is the only way to get any time to myself, and it’s worth the occasional flat day. Alone time restores sanity more effectively than sleep does.