The Nature of Tiredness
I am utterly knackered at the moment. Self inflicted I’m afraid. Before last night I had three nights on the trot with less than five hours sleep. Night one, so I could catch an early flight. Night two due to a certain football game and an overly noisy hotel in the morning. Night three because I had a late flight home which became much later with the mandatory delays and too many people trying to get through customs at the same time (I really must get a UK passport (I can, I just can’t be bothered to fill out the forms)).
Then last night. After a long days work I get home at about 9:30. Amazing how one day out of the office more than doubles the amount of work you have to catch up on the next day. LL greats me warmly, but equally is tired. She’s not been sleeping well with a summer sore throat bothering her.
Thing is, instead of heading up to bed and going straight to sleep after a little sleepy reconciliation, she decides she has to re-tan her legs. This is a lengthy process requiring a shower so she can shave, then an application of tan stuff, then a wait, then extra moisteriser.
I’m to tired to be anything but indulgently astounded. I think she’s too tired to have really thought about what she’s doing. We’ve been together too long for me to be surprised or angered. There are times I don’t understand my wife, but to love the woman is to love the foibles. So we chat, and half watch the news, and take an extra hour before finally drifting off to sleep.
Instead of a catch up on my sleep I had another late night. I am utterly knackered…