It’s 7pm over on my side of the world. A reasonable hour. I just woke up from a two hour nap. Some people have just gotten through accomplishing things. Don’t you think you’re special. Let me guess, you stopped by the grocery store; you’re making dinner; you’re doing laundry; you’re settling down with a beer or wine or whiskey to your favorite show?
I’m groggy. And I’m angry. And I am still jetlagged. This isn’t supposed to happen to me. I got back from my trip on Monday and I’m still napping a solid two hours on a regular schedule after work. Every day this week. I keep trying to tell my mind that I’m better than this, that it’s all a mental game, a made up symptom.
But every day at 3:45pm my body rebels against me at seemingly the same traffic light and I want to know nothing, feel nothing, crave nothing but sweet sleep.
Today, after trailing behind a person who seemingly got into his car for nothing more then a scenic meander down anywhere, USA, I swerved out of the lane and engaged my gas pedal in a fury, rearing down the road like Cruella Deville. (I kid you not, I just now realized that her name means cruel devil. Nice. But not nice that I’m that slow...). I wasn’t going dangerously fast just, as my son the buzzkill reminded me, fast enough to get a ticket. The kid doesn’t understand. He still believes he’s superman. Life will show that arrogance who’s boss.
My purpose in laying on the gas was to feel any rush of blood through my veins that might keep me from falling asleep. I’m putting my car into park at red lights, lest I wake up in the middle of an intersection. My arms are tingling. Someone’s hiding kryptonite in their pocket. It’s the blasted universe, that son of a bitch. “Haha”, he says, “you think you can just go gallivanting on the other side of the world without consequence? Let’s show you the price you’ll pay. Let’s show you all week long.” I don’t know why he’s being a prick. I’m always talking about the beauty and majesty of the universe and all that shit. I’m not going to market for this douchebag for a while. I hope he’s listening. God created the universe, and the universe turned out to be a beautiful prick.
I wouldn’t be so terribly upset, of course, if there wasn’t so much that I keep intending to accomplish.
My two travel companions were able to take one and two days off of work in order to recover from the flight. My school decided that the day we get back from a holiday is the best day to begin our end of the year testing and End-of-Course exams. Fantastic.
On a brighter note, tomorrow is Saturday and it belongs 100% to me, and my son, and my daughter who happens to be a fiend for nonstop activity. I think the first words my ears here on Saturdays is, “What fun things do we have planned for today, Momma?” Sounds like I need to call in the reinforcements: cousins.