This was the sort of day in which you eat standing up and hardly remember what it was you ate. Was the sort of day where eventually, you believe that if you stop for a moment, you won't be able to keep moving.
It was the sort of day where in the middle of the last errand for milk, the energy suddenly flows out of you and you know you've done enough.
Except to tuck in, kiss goodnight and read just a bit to one who counts on you to keep going, because that's what Frodo would do.
At the end of it, now, it's the sort of end where you're glad to be off your feet, where you know you'll be up at six to start again, and where you're content to be chugging along, alive, the little engine that does things.
And too, there is a kindle of kittens.