Today I woke up late.
It’s my day off, and I had a lot of things that I wanted to get done. My hair is greasy and I need a shower. I have several errands to run. I have things around the house that should be cleaned. I have dishes that need to be put away, and clothes that need to be washed. I have a dog that needs to be walked, and a cat that needs its litter-box cleaned. I have sheets that need to be changed and washed, and a bathroom that could use a good cleaning. I have a floor that needs to be vacuumed and laundry that needs to be put away.
I’m exhausted. I’ve only been up for five hours, and I feel like I need to go to bed. I’ve had two cups of coffee, breakfast and a snack, and I still have no energy. I haven’t gotten a single thing done, and I’m too tired to do anything more than sit on my computer and go through Facebook, or read, or write. And the latter is me trying to accomplish something, today—anything to feel as though I’ve been productive.
I just consider myself lucky that I made a large dinner last night, running on the adrenaline I’d had shooting through me from my earlier work-day; because of that, we’ll have dinner tonight. That’s the only reason we’re not ordering out or making a random (and probably unhealthy) meal for ourselves, just to have something to sustain us until tomorrow morning.
I feel like a failure, but at the same time, I know this is my body’s way of telling me that I have been too busy this week. I need to slow down or I will make myself sick. Or in some cases, I have already made myself sick and I need to rest to keep myself from getting sicker. This one time, I listen to my body. I’ve got a raging headache, anyway, and my chest feels like something heavy is squeezing it from the inside, making me feel even more tired than before.
I manage to walk the dog and clean the catbox, because they are something beyond myself and need to be taken care of on a regular schedule. But everything else can wait. I have something prepared for dinner, and that’s really the only life-or-death thing that should be taken care of (besides the cat and dog, of course!).
But even as I sit here, writing (reading) this and feeling more tired than ever before, my brain is still working at a mile a minute. I am thinking about work and all the things that go along with it. I am thinking about my family, and what I want/need to do for them. I am thinking about all the things I probably should do but am too tired to do. I am thinking about all the things I should do and won’t, simply because.
I started writing this on a Saturday, but finished on a Sunday, because I was too tired (read: distracted by thoughts I wouldn’t act on) to finish on Saturday. I’ve finally taken a shower; or maybe I haven’t. I’m sure no one will notice at work, tomorrow, either way.
Now go back to the beginning, replace “teacher” with your own job, then re-read to the end of the paragraph above. Because in the end, I’m sure we’re all the same…right?
Darn it. Do I really still have three days of work before I get a real vacation?