Fuck, I am tired.

I think I got an hour of sleep last night. Shit just kept happening and I finally gave up.

First, Duckling #7 refused to take a nap, so all night long she was stumbling around the incubator. What I want to know is how does a little baby duck weighing, like, an ounce, make so much fucking noise?

Then, I heard weird noises from Little Dude's box. It sounds like he's (he is definitely a boy) distressed. I go check on him to see that he has threads from the blanket wrapped around his back leg and can't move.

So I get the scissors.

For the next hour and a half, I'm standing over Little Dude and snipping away at the blanket. How he got that tangled is a goddamn mystery. Finally, he is free. Do I get a thanks?

No.

THEN, around 4:30, I'm getting ready to put Duckling #7 in the brooder. I notice uh-oh, D-7 (hee) has the same problem as D-6.

Commence research.

Finally figure out on my own that it's not that big of a deal. Reunite D-6 and D-7 w/their brothers and sisters.

All is well.

Everyone is all cool now.

Except for me.

This is my first week at work and already I don't want to go in. Granted, it has nothing to do w/the job itself, just the fact that I'm tired and if I move my hand in front of my face, I can kinda see trails.

Bitchin'.

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