All this time, and I thought bone tired was some cliche. After the last few weeks, I know it now to be an actual state of exhaustion. The first wave of exhaustion comes from having no routine, no loose guideline by which to structure the days. This is really hard on the kids, but it's hard on me too. I forget to cook, or to pack lunches, or to put the clothes in the dryer because I've been on the phone with this or that contractor, the adjustor, the agent. And when it's time for bed, we tramp upstairs to our blow up mattresses, which are never right, which are uncomfortable, which are deflated, and I'm too tired to plug in the pump.
The next exhaustion comes from having so many people so close all of the time. Like, my mother nagging full time overe the weekend. And also I'm trying to teach, but even when I do have time to sit in my office all I do is sit, and move papers from one folder to another.
The final exhaustion is the physical one. I thought I was a tough strong lady until this weekend, when I spent both days cleaning debris out of my attic. Everything up there is now on the street. It's an eyesore, and I'm glad that my neighbors have to look at it. I can't believe the things I threw down and hauled to the street. I can't beliebe the tree limbs and pine debris that I thrwew down the stairs and into the street. The insulation. The broken glass. And then we were pulling up floors and dragging wet carpet out to the street. I can't believe I did that. I can't believe how tired I am, I don't even know what's making me tired. My hands are swollen, I can't bend my legs, my back is out, and can't put my purse on my shoulder . . .