Two things make a dog tired. Hunting and old age. Our black lab has a chronic case of both. During pheasant season, she will literally curl up anywhere and cash out for hours of uninterrupted slumber. As shown by exhibit A.
Like the dog, I could easily crawl into a corner myself and fall asleep at this very moment. In fact, I’m typing this from bed and it’s only 7:42pm. I tell myself I’m being a good mom by getting the boys to bed early, however, the truth is I’m so tired I might fall into a coma before I finish posting and they start snoring.
I don’t like being this tired, especially sinceI didn’t go hunting this weekend. It leaves me to assume my near-comatose state is caused by old age. While I don’t feel old most days, the combination of yesterday and today aged me 100 years.
Saturday morning dawned bright and early, as I don’t know how to sleep in. With DH hunting and the kids still snoozing, I spent a quiet morning working on my writing. In the process of looking for something, I began cleaning out the top of the pantry in the hall, the roll top desk (that has a beautiful roll to hide my habit of piling things) and the dining room side-server thingy.
All said, that equalled ten drawers of varying sizes, three shelves and a cavernous desk top.
You may be wondering why I’m sharing this and the answer is, I’m too stupid-tired to care that I’m divulging my biggest super-hero weaknesses. Clark Kent had kryptonite, Achilles had his heel and I am a procrastinating, closet pig.
Unlike Achilles, I do my best work while racing against a deadline. Messy closets do not drain my power like kryptonite did for Superman. Instead, I get a kick out of scrummaging through these paper saturated places. While sorting the good, the bad and the ugly, I inevitably find treasures that are more delightful the second time around. So maybe the only weakness here is that these quirks understandably push DH one step closer to the court house and the divorce papers.
But I digress. So, my house is crazy-messy with piles of keep and throw when DD (in a friend funk) decides not to go to the movies, but rather insists that she and I put up the Christmas tree. This project really encompasses outside lights, pine boughs on the porch, and replacing every inside decorating item with a festive trinket. In other words, not a quick project.
The time: 630pm. By 9:30, DD is cashed out on the couch and I am left to finish decorating the house and cleaning up the aftermath of said holiday endeavor. I put the last item away, dusted off my hands and called it quits–at 12:45 am. Sunday morning.
At this point, I figured a good mom would wait up until her Oldest returned from the movies in a town over the border and through the prairie. He did at 1:30, and I promptly went to bed.
Four hours later, my internal alarm went off, followed by a text from DH that he would be home in forty five minutes from hunting over the border and waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay through the prairie. He rolled in at 6:30, we rounded up the crew for church, attended a band concert, repacked DH for a business trip, and I collapsed.
I’m dog tired. But at least I know where my bed is.
Hope you had a good weekend filled with great memories~ cat