I just got done with another 16 hour shift. My friends are going to happy hour, but I’m going home. My bed is calling my name. Can you hear my bed, too? It’s saying, “Mother Jones, Mother Jones, time to come home. It’s time for bed.” Wait a minute, maybe the fatigue is affecting my mind. Hmmmmmmmm.

Oh yes, and to my coworkers who are going to happy hour, don’t be stupid like Mel Gibson. Don’t drink and drive.

Nite-nite. Mother Jones RN