She’s exhausted—again. Last night she was up three times before the sun. Once to find a pacifier behind the crib. Another time to escort her oldest to the bathroom. And the third time for something she can’t remember, but might have involved a sock. The school called her to say that the youngest didn’t have Bah-bah for naptime, so she took comp time to drive home and get the bear. It’s nearly time for the news. She’s just finished up the dishes. And she’s still got on her hose and heels.
She should take a shower before going to bed early but she just can’t bear to get her hands wet again. She combs her short dark hair with her water wrinkled fingers. She cut it that way to skip showers on days like this. She doesn’t bother smelling herself but wrings out the dishrag before wiping under her arms.
Word count: 150