To do

I should be cleaning the house, doing my nails (toes and fingers a mess), cross referencing a gazillion spreadsheets, take out the garbage and paper, collect a parcel at the concierge and do god knows what. Instead I am off to bed, read A Thousand Splendid Suns and fall asleep knowing I will feel much better tomorrow. Yoga, a wee bit of shopping and a belated Thanksgiving dinner is just what the doctor ordered. Bloody hell, how tired can one be?