Still No End, But Plenty of Gloom

Finishing off the critical component of my M Res is proving pretty challenging. I've put myself under pressure to complete it well ahead of time, and this simply isn't going to happen. I need sleep. My CRPS is screaming for more sleep, as is my arthritis, and I need a less chaotic household; we've been pretty full of musicians all weekend (see @martynclark's Twitter feed for more info.), and I feel like I've been a nanny, but without Mary Poppin's semi-magical powers, umbrella, and carpet bag. I'm going to London in a few days, and wanted this done before then, but my body and brain are simply not cooperating. Like a poem, an essay isn't something that can be forced out of my head onto a screen. I should know better.