Stop writing and go to sleep

I have sea legs, the day was so full. Among the rainy beach with romping dog, work duties of basketball and cake baking, hot sweaty dancing, and an unfamiliar living room speckled with pretty eyes, one shiny moment is gleaming through. I was writing the inventory of a girl's belongings at work, going through her make-up, noting each brand on the form for her to sign. Even with my new glasses, I had to squint closely at each name, holding it up to my face. Mass carrr a? No, mass what, mass aaa ger? Massager? Oh, she says, that's my vibrator, sorry about that.