I thought that we might get home early this week; bit as ever, it wasn't meant to be. Mara must not here gotten much sleep during my shift. She was struggling coming out of the Chicago area and eventually stopped to take a nap. I was in no shape to drive, having had very little sleep myself. So here we are. If nothing else goes wrong, we'll get home around midnight on Monday morning. Things had been going so well that I had fully expected to be home around 8pm on Sunday night.

Oh, well. I'm not mad at Mara. I've had to stop plenty of times myself. I've been the reason we got home late on several occasions. I'm just frustrated. Why is it impossible for us to get home at a decent time?