with all that has happened this week, how can i not be exhausted?

So, I'm sitting here, once again getting that final draft of my play together. It's been renamed from Hi Hipscher! to Unorthodox! and I can't believe it took me months to come up with a title. But now that I'll be doing some theater workshops this fall, I'm sort of motivated to get my play up and out as soon as possible. Of course, that doesn't explain why I'm sitting here blogging at one in the morning instead of cutting,  pasting, playing with margins and whatever it is that I should be doing to further my goal, but whatever. Sometimes I need to break for some rooibos tea, dried cranberries and babbling.
Anyway, this has been an insane week. I had a wisdom tooth wrested from my jaw. I applied for some teaching jobs. Proposition 8 was struck down, allowing gay marriages in California. People are going nuts about the mosque/cultural center being built in lower Manhattan. (I take the liberal view on both of these issues: yes to gay marriage and yes to building the cultural center.) I've received two rejection letters: one personal and the other one a form letter. I've argued with people over religion, sexual orientation, Judaism, atheism, other -isms. I've started several short stories but haven't been able to get anything out on the theme that I need to work under. I didn't hit the gym as often as I should have. This week, New Jersey decided to close all of Camden's libraries, further closing off an impoverished area from access to education, technology and entertainment. When they claim that all Americans are equal, apparently they mean only if one is wealthy and white. I believe they call that "privileged." This week I learned that twenty million Americans are unemployed and that one in eight Americans is on food stamps. The middle class is shrinking. I am trying to get a teaching job and I am writing fiction about the very true issues of gender inequality and discrimination in orthodox judaism.
So it's been a crazy week. And that's before mentioning the four kids who need attention.
Some angsty graffiti was discovered in one of our closets, written by one of the (now grown) kids who used to live here before we moved in. I think it may serve as the basis of a story. And then I had this idea that perhaps I should start attending open houses with a camera, and then writing about the lives that I think were lived in those homes. Although, who knows? In a few months, I may just have to do that with my own home!
Sooooo, it's been a bit of a serious week for me over here in my writing world.