Tomorrow is only 8 hours long instead of 9. That’s nice. I do small things to keep my sanity. I make it through only because I know it’s temporary. But really, it’s exhausting. But really, I came home yesterday and he had flowers for me, and wine, and chocolate, and the cloth band-aids I asked for. I know people work days like this all the time, and even longer. What do they get to come home to? What keeps them going? In this way, I am fortunate.