I was so tired on the drive home yesterday that I pulled over and slept an hour in the car until woken by seeping outer cold. Once home I walked Mak, then it was time to rev up for a Meetup gathering I’d committed to. It was the last thing I wanted. Generally, I never attend weeknight Meetups. After a long work day and commute the last thing I want to do is leave the dog again to re-energize for a social engagement.
I was on the couch with Coke and added lime juice, hoping the meager caffeine would be miraculous for my energy level… all the while whining to Lori about these damned weeknight Meetups.
As an aside, I’d been reading extensively on the English/Scottish border wars that spanned c. 1300-1600. Then I realized I, the self-styled “tough guy,” was laying on a couch whining about low energy. I asked Lori, “What’s wrong with me?” And referring to routine life in reiver times, reminded myself, “I could have just watched my farm burn to the ground, children and wife hung from the nearest trees, livestock and horses stolen. Three days travel without food, dragged captive across the border to be ransomed to clan. Later escaping captors in the dark, freezing sleet rusting my chain mail, I’d have to fight my way back, for days, to less lethal ground.”
Instead, I was nearly in a swoon, wrist draped across forehead, warm, well-fed, Coke glass in hand, “I’m SO tired. I don’ wanna go out.”
“You’re right, Lori said, “You should change your blog name to ‘Sheep ‘N Wimps.’”