Groaning, I sat up and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands, trying to make them want to open. They did not. Opening was, in fact, low on their list of things to do today, right above “staying open” and “looking at the world.” I respected their right to protest, but had to declare a fiat, since they didn’t really have a choice. I needed to work if I wanted to eat, and I needed to eat if I wanted to stay alive.
