I only have one speed – full on – and my batteries went flat on Saturday.
I didn’t sleep much last week between fretting about my mammogram, stressing over work and wrangling the logistics of having no kitchen or lounge room due to the floors being sanded.
I should have said no when the youngest asked on Thursday if she could spend the weekend with her friends at DD’s place, but I’m a softie and it was the only time everyone was available, so I said yes. She told me they’d head up there around 3pm on Saturday arvo, so I figured I had plenty of time on Saturday morning to get organised.
But, as we were on our way to my sister’s place for a barbecue and a spa on Friday night, the youngest informed me that plans had changed and we were leaving at 10.30am on Saturday morning. Again, I should have said no, but again, I’m a softie, so I found myself at Woolies at 9.30pm getting supplies to feed the eldest and the dogs while we were away.
We were scanning our groceries at the register as the roller door started going down for the night on the entrance to the supermarket.
We got home and I tottered to bed. But, as per the rest of the week, I could not for the life of me nod off. I tottered back out of bed on Saturday morning, walked the dogs, walked with friends, went to a birthday brekkie, dashed home for a shower, frantically threw some clothes into a bag and picked up various 14 year olds from various locations and drove north.
The kids dumped their bags and headed to the beach. DD could see I was in a bad way so he headed down the road to get noodles for lunch and made a side trip to BWS for some Aperol. I was MUCH more cheerful after a spritz.
I even managed a brief nap afterwards before heading to the beach for a pummelling in the very strong surf.
That night we settled the girls in front of the tellie with pizza and wandered down the street to get a bite to eat. I was delirious with exhaustion as we sat at the local BYO Vietnamese restaurant with a bottle of Margan wine.
The wine and my exhaustion reminded us of the most glorious weekend we spent at Broke for our friend Kirsten’s birthday.
On that occasion, DD staggered off a plane from London – following a three-day business trip that involved more than 50 hours of air travel – on the Friday night and drove up to Margan vineyard the next day for lunch.
We had the the most incredible five-course degustation menu while sitting on the verandah looking out at the mountains and vines.
On this occasion we sipped Margan semillon while eating sugarcane prawns and Vietnamese pancake. DD got me to raise my glass so he could take a photo to send to Kirsten. And I can’t believe I’m going to share the photo with the world because I’m pretty appalled by how bad I looked.
DD reckons Saturday is the most tired he’s ever seen me look. Deep breath … here you go …
Blimey, those eye wrinkles are quite something. I look so ancient and bedraggled.
I somehow made it to about 9pm without crying, before crashing in bed and sleeping for 10 hours, which was a nice start to recovering from sleep deprivation, but has only made a slight dent in my exhaustion.
Sunday morning was spent ferrying the kids to Palm Beach to test out the youngest’s surfboard, then driving down to my place to heft all my furniture off the deck into the lounge room (bless DD), driving back up to DD’s place for a swim before packing the kids in the car and dropping them all home. The youngest and I topped off the night with a 7pm trip to Woolies to fill the empty fridge with supplies.
And before I knew it, the weekend was over and I needed another one straight away. Unfortunately I will have to wait five days.
Hopefully this week will involve lots of sleep and stability. But my heart is already aching for people I know who are battling issues far bigger than mine. One lost her husband last week to an incredibly rare disease, a friend has surgery today and another rushed both of her parents to the emergency department yesterday.
My problems are so much smaller.
Song of the day: Loverboy “Working for the weekend”