Total and undeniable exhaustion of the mind.

Forty hours later he left the lab.

"The HECK!"  He speaks to the pavement beneath his feet.  "Why am I even doing this to myself?"

A groan.  A wimper.  A sigh.  Back home to spend a few measly hours with his wife (with child) and his two-and-a-half year old son (with limitless energy), -- "Oh, that I could drink some essence of boy juice,"  he thinks imaginatively, "And get me some of the power that boy has!" -- only to sleep for a maximum of five hours, to wake up to yet another day filled with forty some odd hours of lab work.

"Two-point-five more years of this??"  He asks both incredulously and rhetorically, as he dons his helmet and mounts his red 2007 Genuine Buddy scooter.

Turn the ignition. Right handle, twist forward.  Accelerate.

Go home.

The urge to puke doesn't entirely fail to overcome him.  Not in the helmet.

The road blurs by, not with speed, but with lethargy.  Same road with the same view.  "Oh, look!" He says to no one, "a new piece of trash on the side of the road.  What an exciting development for my commute!  See you tomorrow, buddy!  Don't go anywhere!"  What an idiot!

Home.  Garage door up.  Garage door down.  Take off helmet.  Up the stairs.  Open door.  Look down hallway (everyone's napping).  Take off backpack (back stinging from weight).  Remove shoes.  Faceplant on couch.

Five minutes transpire.

Five more.

Five more.

A slight noise from the boy's bedroom.

One minute.

Scuffling under the door as a boy peeks through the gap.  Breathing.

"Daddy?" So quietly.

"Daddy?"  A little louder.  More confident.  Full of hope.

A pause.  Breathing.  Peeking.

Off the couch.  Down the hall.  Sneaking to the door to lay down opposite the boy.  Three inches apart and eye to eye.

A moment.

"Time to get up?"  The boy asks with his infant accent.

"Do you want to?"

"Yeah!"

"OK."

The boy leaps from the floor, grabs his favorite pig toy and blanket and stands expectantly as he opens the bedroom door to let him out.

Big hug.  Big kiss.  "Home from school!"  The boy proclaims, with joy.  What a welcome!  Now if only. . .

She is there, standing across the hallway in the other doorway smiling.  Looking glorious (and just as tired) and fondly at her man.  Another (longer) kiss and (tighter) hug, followed by a sultry "Welcome home, my darling." Ahhhhhh. . .

"Play getchoo?"  The boy asks with energy, bunching up his arms to run.  Mmmm, essence of boy!

"Let's go!"  Now he remembers what all this work is for.  No problem.