To Sleep

I'm drained. Driving across Europe in a Twingo will do that to you. All I want to do is sleep. And yet.

Crisis of confidence, meet Res. You two will be spending quite some time together, as she tosses and turns under the covers.

It turns out that when you finally catch a glimpse of "Everything You Never Knew You Always Wanted", it doesn't look quite as sturdy as you imagined. In fact, on closer inspection you begin to wonder whether the whole thing isn't actually made of out of paper-thin glass. Glass that is very likely to shatter into a million sharp pieces as soon as you get your clutz' hands on it. Especially if you have my hand-eye coordination.

So what do you do? Do you leave it there, eternally just out of reach but at least intact and still beautiful? Do you keep edging forward, very, very carefully, droplets of sweat appearing on your brow and quivering above your upper lip as you hold your breath? Or do you just smash the damn thing on purpose, just to relieve the tension and stop the agony once and for all?

Aye, there's the rub.

Now someone pass me a valium.