I knew this week was going to be unpleasant-
The only thing unknown was the degree
To which the lousiness was clear and present
And how long I’d endure ignominy.

Between bad news and stress I had my pick,
With fraught misunderstandings in between,
And each that followed felt like one more kick
From fortune’s well-oiled arse-kicking machine.

Some unexpected kindnesses were granted,
Because, most likely, chance already found
Incessant misery should be supplanted:
Because you can’t trip someone on the ground.

Long weeks and days will sleepy Libbys make
I’ve no idea how I’m still zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz