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cosmolinguistI literally hardly slept last night. My eyes were burning and I was so tired I could cry but I just wasn't able to sleep. I drifted off twice, for a total of maybe two hours, but it was a miserable night.
Yesterday or another day in reading week this wouldn't have been such a big deal, but today I had stuff to do both this morning and this evening so this morning I was honestly scared about how I'd get through the day.
Turns out I've gotten through the day by not doing either of thiose things.
Andrew's dad had invited himself over this morning since he'd be nearby. I got showered and dressed and did the kinds of tidying and quick swipe of the bathroom that I do when we're having company. I sat down in a chiair about ten minutes before his dad was due and must've looked pitiful becuaes Andrew said "You don't have to be here for this, you can go back to bed, maybe get some sleep, and I'll wake you about 4:30." So I, gratefully, did. He didn't have to wake me, I only slept for a couple hours.
I got up again, got dressed again, hung up the laundry I'd put on this morning, put a frozen pizza in the oven and ate it, all the while thinking I'd be well enough to go to Leeds this evening for another Nunkie performance, the guy who dresses up and recites M.R. James stories by candlelight. He's wonderful and a little group of friends and I go see him whenever he's around; Andrew andmiss_s_b and strange_complex are on their way there now. But I'm not: about twenty minutes before we'd have had to leave I decided that I really wasn't up to a late, cold night out.
I have to go to work tomorrow, having cried off yesterday, and I feel worse now than I did yestrday so I really don't want to be overdoing it. I'm so sad to miss this though; it's always so much fun. But I walked the dog as Andrew left and I felt so horrible just being outside for a few minutes that it absolutely assured me I'd made the right decision.
I hate it when the right decision is to not do the fun things, though.
Yesterday or another day in reading week this wouldn't have been such a big deal, but today I had stuff to do both this morning and this evening so this morning I was honestly scared about how I'd get through the day.
Turns out I've gotten through the day by not doing either of thiose things.
Andrew's dad had invited himself over this morning since he'd be nearby. I got showered and dressed and did the kinds of tidying and quick swipe of the bathroom that I do when we're having company. I sat down in a chiair about ten minutes before his dad was due and must've looked pitiful becuaes Andrew said "You don't have to be here for this, you can go back to bed, maybe get some sleep, and I'll wake you about 4:30." So I, gratefully, did. He didn't have to wake me, I only slept for a couple hours.
I got up again, got dressed again, hung up the laundry I'd put on this morning, put a frozen pizza in the oven and ate it, all the while thinking I'd be well enough to go to Leeds this evening for another Nunkie performance, the guy who dresses up and recites M.R. James stories by candlelight. He's wonderful and a little group of friends and I go see him whenever he's around; Andrew and
miss_s_b and strange_complex are on their way there now. But I'm not: about twenty minutes before we'd have had to leave I decided that I really wasn't up to a late, cold night out. I have to go to work tomorrow, having cried off yesterday, and I feel worse now than I did yestrday so I really don't want to be overdoing it. I'm so sad to miss this though; it's always so much fun. But I walked the dog as Andrew left and I felt so horrible just being outside for a few minutes that it absolutely assured me I'd made the right decision.
I hate it when the right decision is to not do the fun things, though.