When time sprang forward,
she fell behind–
trying to catch up on her sleep,
catch up on her life–
a life she often felt got away from her.
For one week,
with abbreviated visits
to the land of shuteye town,
she muddled through her mornings,
her afternoons,
her evenings,
as if she were high on diphenhydramine.
But then Spring Break came,
and she was able to,
for once,
think about something other
than moving (if not shaking)
her moneymaker,
unless shaking her head
at her husband counted.