Hi, it’s me, your friend the walking corpse. I am going to say something that is going to make a lot of you mad. I need a 3 month siesta. I realize I spend a large portion of my life on vacation. In my defense, they are all micro-vacations. I need a giant chunk of vacation. The last few weeks have proved to me that I’m not sure I’ll live another day not tired again. Is this what getting old feels like? Am I just to waltz through the rest of this thing yearning for my bed all the time? Somedays I come home and quite literally swan dive into it in all my clothes with my purse still over my shoulder. Just know I am two seconds away from crumbling to the ground in a heap ancient bones at any given moment. I feel pre-historic. I’m basically a T-Rex with longer arms who has turned vegan. I would enthusiastically volunteer to be the next Sleeping Beauty. Just direct me to the nearest spinning wheel.
To all of you with kids…HOW? I have myself to take care of and she annoys me. The thought of cooking for myself at times is so overwhelming that I just let the hunger grind in my stomach till I either fall asleep or become so hungry I’m no longer hungry. The chopping, the boiling, the cutting, the seasoning – by the time I’m done with the prep-work I’m so sick of looking at everything I end up ordering food anyway. Can I just be like Will Ferrell in Wedding Crashers and yell MA! MEATLOAF! and it appear?! Once upon a visit, my friend’s daughter wanted me to twirl her in the kitchen, so I did. “Again!” she giggled. So we did it again. 45 hundred thousand lightyears of ‘agains’ later I was like – HOW DO I TURN THIS THING OFF? I would still be twirling her in the kitchen right now if it was up to her. Children are tiny relentless creatures with absolutely no concept of time and zero sense of their surroundings. You’re gonna throw a fit on this crosswalk during rush hour traffic? That’s a choice you’re making today? Fantastic. One moment of bliss and now I’m stuck with a human ball of emotion whose thought process is a never ending run-on sentence I imagine sounding like the micro-machine man. Mad kudos to you parents out there…I am forever in awe.
My co-worker was complaining the other day. Let me rephrase that. My co-worker was over-dramatically whining, “I just need to sit down, I’m exhausted.” I’m like like, “You just got here ten minutes ago. I’ve been here for six hours without a break and without food. Also, you’re twenty-two!” (sigh) Millennials. I have never met a group of people with more physical and emotional ailments. You think you had a rough childhood? When I was growing up and we had to sit around and wait, that’s exactly what we did. No instagram to scroll through, no friends to text with, no facebook to troll. You could sit there, pick a fight with your sibling or pick your nose. Those were your options. Quite honestly, looking back, I have no idea how I got anywhere or met up with anyone. It was this choreographed symphony that now seems like a giant puzzle of schematics only Nobel Prize winners could possibly make sense of. There weren’t mass texts, there were phone chains. If you do not know what a phone chain is, you’re too young to be reading this. Go to bed.
I understand everything is subjective, but some things really are harder than other things. For example, your 9-5 desk job dealing with emails and the glow of the screen is not more physically taxing than the 8 hours I spend on my feet dealing with every idiot under the sun, their alleged allergies and the childhood they’ll never get over. Stop slouching. You’ll be fine. My ex used to act like it was a competition and somehow convinced himself that his job was much more demanding than mine. I can honestly say, from the bottom of my heart, he was and is still wrong. And this was before I learned that he was spending most of his time emailing back and forth with his lady friend who worked upstairs about all of the places they could go together. I’m giving a real ‘are you joking my ass’ face right now. So much shade, right? Coming in hot today. Sorry not sorry. Facts are facts. I am not going to look at a garbage man and pretend like my job is harder than his. It’s not. And that, my good people, is called being realistic.
So yeah, I am tired. I am sure most of you are tired too. I want to sleep Rip Van Winkle style until my bones no longer ache. I want to fall into a cloud and get my shoulders, back and feet rubbed until the end of time. I need a spa-cation and a strong man who can carry me around so I don’t have to walk and occasionally hold me. Can’t I Zack Morris this life and hit pause? Can we declare a national two-week break? Can someone fill in for me for a few days? CAN I GET A MINUTE?! I long for the day my eyelids no longer feel like weights. I long for the days I wake up and don’t wish I would fall back asleep again. I long for the energy to make me feel young and vibrant again. I crave the zest that makes me wanna do twirls in my kitchen for hours on end. And I don’t even have a fun get-out-there-and-live-your-best-life button to end this thing cause I’m tired, ok? Deal with it.