Today, I woke up and felt like death. My legs were hollow and ached like they were having their own migraine. I couldn’t lift a feeble arm without preparing myself for the exertion and the thought of making myself vertical had me glued to the bed in an eye-flickering panic.
I resorted to the strategy I used when I had been up night after repeated night with new-born, collicky babies. I focused only on the very next thing I had to do. Whatever it was, swinging my legs over the bed, cleaning my teeth, putting one leg in my pants, just the very, very next thing. The thought of all the other pieces of business I had to do after that very next thing would be enough to overwhelm me back into a stupor so I just focused, focused, focused.
By the time the kids had got off for school, I felt wretched. I’d had a minor argument with one boy over whether he was sick enough to stay home from school, I’d changed my mind over that and shown myself up for the weak mother I was. I’d not said goodbye to other. I’d been ratty with my husband. I was going to have to cancel lunch in San Francisco with old friend over here from the UK and I had a pile of things I’d looked forward to doing today that weren’t going to be enjoyed.
Poor me. And poor you if you have days like this. We all have them. It sucks. The end.