so. tired. can’t. think.
I hate daylight savings time. I hate it with a white-hot passion reserved for the inner circles of hell. It takes me at least 2 weeks to get my circadian rhythms to even begin to approach an equilibrium again. In the meantime, I’m sleepy, foggy, irritable, and just …what’s the word…what’s the word? INEFFECTIVE in just about everything I attempt.
If y’all could see the amount of back-spacing and spelling correcting I’m doing just to write this you’d be rolling on the floor laughing.
Add to that the natural decrease in the amount of daylight possible at 45 degrees latitude AND the fact that there’s an effing wind chill out there of 11 degrees (11 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT people…that’s winter. Plain and simple.) and all I want to do is lay on the couch under a down blanket and stare at…I don’t know, anything.
Of course, I’d much rather lay on the couch with someone wrapped around me, but that’s not happening in the foreseeable future. No matter how much either of us would want it to, just because of work schedules and kids’ schedules.
So I muddle on. Trying not to think of the months of cold and dark and solitary couch laying. Trying not to think of the scarcity of couch laying, for that matter.
I’ve decided that I’m going to take off the week between Christmas and New Year’s eve. I’m going to see if someone can let me stay at a cabin for free and then get the boys to stay with X. I need a retreat somehow. A time alone (which is odd, since one thing that weighs so heavy on me is loneliness) where I can rest and rejuvenate. Basically a vacation for one.
On the other hand, if I were to have company for part of the time…
Oh, who am I kidding? That just takes too much energy to think about.
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A year ago (or longer) on This Journey…
