Friday, November 25, 2005

Tired, tired, tired

I'm 37, keep myself pretty fit with running and swimming, have only the one wonderful child and a great husband, yet I feel so damn TIRED today. After I found myself about to walk into the kitchen this morning without any pants on, it was pretty clear that today was going to be a Tired Day.

Have you ever had a Tired Day? I'm not talking about episodes of genuine tiredness which have real causes like a baby's four-hourly feeds, a sick child or a hoon doing burn-outs on the corner of your street at 2am, but one in which you're exhausted just from, well, breathing. Where even your arms ache when you have to lift a toothbrush and your eyelids are threatening to flop down over your eyes like a shop awning. Where choosing what cereal to eat for breakfast seems like an insurmountable decision and trying to wear clothing that's colour-coordinated whilst in a dimly lit room just isn't going to happen.

Yes, this is you too? Then read on. No? Then still read on to get a feel for what us Tired Day sufferers go through in silence, and then donate generously to our cause. Coffee beans, massage vouchers, top-shelf chocolates and cash would be the preferred donations, thanks, to help ease our unrecognised affliction.

Have any of these following 'tired signs' ever applied to you? You know you're tired when:

  • You look in the mirror before stepping into the shower and notice that your face still has the creases from the pillow on it;
  • After your shower, your face still hasn't uncreased itself;
  • You put your undies on inside out and when you notice it later on, you don't change them back because you don't care;
  • You leave your wake-up cup of coffee in the laundry, the newspaper in the loungeroom and your car keys in the spareroom yet you don't recall being in any of those rooms so far;
  • Your daughter is given a punnet of onion sprouts to take to her class' fruit-sharing recess instead of the strawberries that you bought yesterday;
  • At the supermarket, you find yourself struggling to open the side of the plastic bags used for fruit and veges, and not the top or bottom;
  • At the checkout, you discover, after at least ten minutes, that you're standing in one that has the 'closed - please use other checkout' sign on the conveyor belt;
  • After a bit of fiddling and swearing under your breath, you realise that it's not your car that you're attempting to unlock;
  • The trolley bloke notices this and decides that you're 'the one' he should engage in a lengthy conversation about what sort of foods Obi-Wan and Anakin Skywalker would have eaten on the planet Naboo;
  • You find yourself driving 40km/h in a 60km zone and stop to give way to cars on the side streets;
  • At home the loo freshener has ended up in the fridge next to the new Christmas tree decorations and deodorant. You quickly rush to the laundry to retrieve the chicken from the cleaning cupboard;
  • The landline phone rings and you try to answer it by picking up your mobile;
  • Your mobile rings and switches to the answering service before you realise it's yours. (Even though you are now at home. Alone, with the only mobile in the house;
  • You forget that your Dad is coming to stay for the weekend until he walks through the front door (thank god you've put your pants on by this stage);
  • A box of Lindt balls looks like a legitimate choice for morning tea; and
  • The challenge of sorting through four bags of toys for 'lucky dip' parcels is too mentally taxing.

And all this before lunch.

No comments: