I've never been a napper. If I try, I toss and turn for two hours, sleep for 15 minutes, then spend the next two hours waking up. Who has that time to waste? I have a life. But this working a 40-hour week outside the home has changed that pattern. Not exactly what I thought might happen, but then again, whoever said life goes the way we think.
I had high expectations for this weekend. Catch up time, I calculated in my journal. Do laundry. Reload the refrigerator and pantry shelves. Wash my floors and clean the rings off the toilets, the toothpaste splatters off the mirrors. Lift weights at the Y. Be happy and pleasant to my family members. You know, basic stuff.
Oh, yes, I was also going to completely catch up on everyone's blogs and write ahead on mine so I would have things to post throughout the week. Little did I know my body/mind would choose otherwise. I know those of you who work full-time jobs outside the home are thinking I'm a whiner and might even be chuckling to yourself saying OUTLOUD – serves the bitch right. But I’m honestly admitting, I'm whipped. Two weeks of full-time work outside the home and my ass is kicked.
I thought I was doing well -- Friday night did five loads of laundry while sipping on my glasses of wine. Saturday morning, I slept until 8:45, then washed rugs, washed floors, spent way too much money at the grocery store, and made it to the Y. Even cleaned the toilets. But sitting down was my downfall. I sat on my bed and picked up White Teeth, the next book on my reading shelf, and next thing I knew, awoke to the sunset. All I could remember from the past five hours was lying in my bed, aware of the world around me - the birds singing in the trees, my neighbor using his table saw to cut new ceiling slats, the members of my household milling in the room as they passed through. But I couldn't open my eyes to them. As weird dreams passed in and out while the world moved around me, my eyes refused to view them, as though they were glued shut, only unsticking at the end of the day to view the sun sinking into the horizon.
Early to bed on Saturday night in spite of the unexpected nap, I awoke Sunday morning at 8 with renewed enthusiasm to read, write, finish the needed tasks, and reintroduce myself to my baseball player son. (Not to mention, my husband.) I read the paper and sat outside for a few moments. Got cold so I returned to my bed for a few moments of warmth. Next thing I knew, it was 1:30 in the afternoon. More weird dreams.
I will get used to this new schedule. I have to believe I will. But right now, forgive the naivety of my exhaustion. I’m 52 years old and don't quite have the energy I had when I was younger. Or at least, that is how I'm justifying my negligence. Perhaps, I also need to forgive myself.
Please know how much I appreciate all your comments and your writings. I will catch up soon. I used to be so much fun. Tell me I will be fun again.