Between the Wish and the Thing

Reality and I have an on-again-off-again thing going. We generally respect each other: I don't try and play with the big laws: gravity and murder and such; and reality gives way for the giant miracles that I constantly find myself in need of. But lately, lately things have not been going so smoothly.
I, for instance, really need like six extra hours everyday. Between teaching, grading, and preparing lesson plans, going to classes, doing homework, training, not to mention like eating and dressing and keeping my room clean; really not to mention things like planning for my future--be it next week's midterms or what I'm doing with myself next year, I find my poor Franklin-Covey planner s-t-r-a-i-n-i-n-g at the seams. And sleeping? And templing and studying? Reality is not giving up a minute.
And then there are these rumbles that reality has been beating me at every time: if I buy that pair of new jeans, even though I really need them, the money really is going to disappear from my account. Or if I'm on a run and have a meeting to make, I won't be able, miraculously, to sprint that last half mile so I can get a shower in. Or if I'm distant and hostile to everyone save good friends I'm not going to find myself the life of the party.
I guess the point is this: a bad month. I think reality is upset that I'm trying to ignore its existence and is putting me in my place. And its elbows are sooo sharp.