It was that kind of night

It was that kind of day. She was trying to write something so she could successfully meet day 3 (only 11 more to make a habit) of her obligation. She'd been trying since she got home around 9. She'd played around with different ideas, but couldn't get anything down on paper. She was stuck and watching the clock. She knew she needed to get up at 5 am tomorrow, and she was constantly counting how many hours of sleep she would get. As she lost each minute, she got even more stuck trying to write anything. It was getting close to midnight when finally she gave up and narrated this bit in the third person so she could just go to bed, damn it, but still have written something. She hopes tomorrow it will be real writing and that after 14 damn days it will be easier.