… and I feel like my brain is fried. I’m in the midst of a streak where I wake up tired in the mornings, wanting to succumb to the pull of gravity on my body and the lure of soft t-shirt sheets on my skin. I’m unable to resist dozing past my alarm. I dread the inevitable moment when I need to fling the covers off and trudge to the shower, where the water wakes me up, but not in a way that stops me from leaning against the acrylic, off-white wall with my eyes closed. It’s a temporary escape from the world of neon-green, digital numbers and the countdown to when I need to leave the house, but time doesn’t stand still, not even in the bathroom. I blink my contacts into place and try to settle on an outfit for the day before blasting my hair with the hair dryer and trying to hide my fatigue with makeup.
I drive to work and realize that after 25 minutes, I’ve arrived at the office and I don’t remember the ride at all. It bothers me a bit because I know I should be more aware. While my computer boots up, I hang up my coat, put my lunch in the fridge, peel an orange. My co-workers float in as the next half hour goes by and I offer them a cheerful face and a hi-how-are-you-how-was-your-night. I try not to seem tired, but my office mate can’t help but notice my frequent yawns and eagerness to eat lunch. Work keeps me busy, but not interested. I guess one out of two isn’t bad.
At the end of the day, I’m glad to push my chair back into place and tie a scarf around my neck. I notice that my shoulders relax as soon as I get into the car and pull out. My grip on the wheel is looser than in the morning. I’m much more energetic during my commute back home. I sing along to the radio and look forward to being home, a comforting haven where my husband and a good dinner are bound to show up; seeing JG is the first thing I’ve looked forward to all day. After giving my mind a break during an hour of primetime television, I head down to bed after JG – we operate on teacher time. I reverse my morning routine, donning pajamas and glasses to read a couple of chapters. JG turns in before I do and we exchange a good-night hug and kiss. When I can’t hold up the book any longer, I turn off my bedside lamp and burrow down into the covers. The morning comes far too soon.
I don’t know what it is. Maybe I need more sleep or less sleep. JG says I need to drink more water. I know I should do yoga in the mornings. Maybe that’s it. Common sense tells me that it’s too early to be yearning for the weekend, but my tired mind and body don’t agree.