Long division

I never thought that it was going to be easy, but, man, who knew it would be this hard.

I've been saying this on and off all day while battling a fever that can only be the result of lack of sleep. Thank you, Anna. I actually told her that if she couldn't fall asleep (again) tonight NOT to wake me up because I'd be too pissed and tired to control myself.
"What's that supposed to mean," she said, defiant hand on defiant hip.
"It means, I can't be responsible for what happens to you."
Her eyes got REALLY wide but she recovered quickly because she's cool like that.
"Fine."
So, we'll see what happens. I took a Zyrtec hoping it will break up the snot and excess brain matter that has amassed in my nose and ears. Mostly I took it so that I could sleep, even if a bomb goes off in my sock or something.
Big day from start to finish. There is a neatly stacked pile of papers in the corner of my desk that I need to start "fine-toothing." It is, of course, the separation/divorce agreement. The documents which somehow manage to parcel out one life into two separate lives. And, we get to write up a one-paragraph diddy about why things didn't work out.
Thank God, they limit the space on that one. I can't even begin to unravel how things went wrong, I don't even want to, but, as a psychological exercise, it should be fun.
Step one--exceeding the 50% mark for douche-baggery
Step two--Actually, never mind. I'll save it for the book where I can fictionalize the names and give real details coupled with humiliating ones so that no one can sue me for libel.

Anna just came down and asked "What if I don't sleep tonight, should I just find something to do in my room?"
My curt response: "Anna, you're not a f*cking rock star, you're a third-grader, get your butt back upstairs and go to sleep. NOW!"

I lost my sympathetic edge after waking up this morning with red-rimmed eyes and grocery bags filled with coal.