I’m pretty sure I’m losing my marbles. Or at least I’m really, really tired. Exhausted. Wrung out. Or maybe both? All of the above? You be the judge. Here’s the evidence:
- Do you know that feeling on long drives, of being overwhelmed with fatigue? The one where you really can’t stay awake? When you’re opening windows, turning on the AC, shaking your head, pinching yourself, or just pulling over to nod off for a few minutes?
Well, on a recent Friday, I drove home from work, feeling just that way, yawning madly. Struggling to keep my eyes open. I was so, so tired. I tried all the tricks, but none were working. It’s only a 25 minute drive, but I actually considered pulling over. I was desperate to get home.
Finally, I pulled into the driveway and put the car in park….
the next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes. The car was still running (thankfully in park!) and my audiobook was well ahead of where it had been. I have no idea how long I’d been sleeping, but I had been. As my colleague said, “Well, thank God you don’t have a garage!”
- Late last week I fell into bed exhausted. (Are you sensing a theme here?) When Kurt came upstairs, it woke me, and I got up to go to the bathroom. As I returned to the bedroom, I looked down. What?! I was still wearing my work clothes. I never even got out of them before falling into bed. I mean, I’d been wearing a comfortable outfit, but still!
- Then, I was trying to figure out what to do about last Friday afternoon’s send-off party for a co-worker moving to Spain. I really wanted to attend, as she’s a lovely person and the parent of a student in my class. I also thought it would be nice to actually socialize with some colleagues. But I really didn’t know if I could carve out time to figure out what to make and then to make it, and my in-laws had arrived days ago and I’d barely seen them, and the wedding is fast approaching and report cards are due and…you get the gist.
So, on Thursday afternoon, after a lot of agonizing and mental gymnastics, I finally realized I just couldn’t swing it. I decided I would simply explain to my co-worker and offer my apologies. I knew she’d understand.
Here’s how that went:
She happened to stop by my classroom this past Friday morning with her two kids and a gift of an iced coffee from Starbucks. (Yes, she’s an amazing, generous human being!)
After my effusive thanks, we chatted for a few minutes, and then I took a deep breath and said,
“I’m so sorry, J, but I’m not going to be able to make it to the party tonight.”
She looked at me oddly.
Crap! It wasn’t a surprise, was it?
I search my memory.
No….I distinctly remember the invite saying she knew about it. At least I think I remember that. Oh, no!
“I didn’t blow it, did I?” I asked, anxiously. “I was sure you knew about it!”
“Oh, no,” she said, still looking at me oddly,”I did know about it.”
She paused, then continued, “But, Molly, the party was last Friday.”
So, the evidence is in. It’s pretty clear. There’s plenty more, but I didn’t want anyone to worry too much, and I think I’ve proven my case. I doubt there’s even a need to withdraw to deliberate.
In the slightly revised words of Daniel Pinkwater, I fear it’s clear that I have “gushed my mush, lost my marbles, and slipped my hawser. ” Or, perhaps I’ve “popped my cork, flipped my wig, blown my stack, and dropped my stopper.” However you put it, it doesn’t look good–the verdict seems to be a foregone conclusion.
I rest my case.