“You know when you take a puppy to the vet, and it get poked and prodded for hours, and when you get it home it’s drained, exhausted, and loopy for days? That’s you right now.”
Winter has been rough for me this year. My theory is that the lack of sunlight (which by itself doesn’t really bug me, seeing as I like rainy, cloudy, and cold weather just fine) combining with birth control hormones for the first time during the dark half of the year has congealed into a perfect cocktail of winter doldrums.
All I want to do is hibernate. Even if, in spite of the ridiculous things that wake me up occasionally, I get a full night’s rest, I wake up exhausted every day and completely lacking the will to do anything. For a week now I’ve hauled myself out of bed mere minutes before we have to dash out the door to work/school. There’s been a pile of clean clothes sitting on my floor for days because I just can’t muster the strength to sort and store them (sorry, Mum!). We got these great electric toothbrushes for Christmas from J.’s parents which took some getting used to (i.e. splattering the mirror) which I haven’t dealt with in a week. And nature might abhor a vacuum, but not as much as me!
This isn’t just run of the mill laziness and I’ve never been this affected by a season before. I’m in a right dirty winter funk!
“A ruffled mind makes a restless pillows.”
– Charlotte Bronte
Apart from the subconscious boxing J. and I seem to engage in while asleep, it is not the only adjustment to be made sharing a bed.
Though we have little awake experience to corroborate this, morning evidence suggests that we also play blanket tug-o-war on an almost nightly basis. Admittedly our second best set of sheets is pretty flimsy and doesn’t grip the bed well, but many is the morning we have woken up nearly smothered by a fitted sheet sprung free from its mattress corner. We also must toss and turn a lot because some mornings we awake to find blankets kicked off to the floor, or gathered so tightly around our heads that our feet are poking out. I suspect myself of secret malice because some mornings I wake up, completely overheated, but piled with most of the blankets, as if to keep J. from getting at them.
J. however, has sunk to a whole new low. A few nights ago, I was deep in slumber when he started moving around a bit and woke me up. Just an eyelid flicker, nothing too serious. I’d just closed them again when suddenly…
Thunk! My head dropped back and plunked on the bed. I scrambled up in confusion but a quick glance to my left explained all.
J. had stolen my pillow! Right from under my head! In his sleep!
I dragged it back, which of course woke him up, disgruntled I might add.
“You stole my pillow!” I accused.
“No I didn’t,” he returned.
“Yes you did,” was my witty rejoinder.
His own missing pillow surfaced, shoved up in the corner of the bed.
(J. looking at our future apartment) “Number fourteen sixty-nine. Seven years after Columbus.”
-J. and C.
I have no idea what my problem is, but these days I am well and truly exhausted! The past few nights I go over to J.’s to hang out and have ended up unconscious on his couch for at least an hour at a time. Daylight Saving didn’t help either. In fact, this morning when my alarm went off I thought I hit snooze but apparently I just turned the sucker off and when I again fluttered my lashes open it was 7:41 (when I have to be at work at 8). A really promising start to the week…