For you, the dress code is casual.

Friday, November 10, 2006

Mornings Suck, Part II

The worst thing about all this worry is how endlessly tired I feel.

This morning, I got up and felt dead. Just completely dead. I went out to the couch, figuring I'd watch yesterday's Oprah with breakfast then head in. I sat there and the weight of the world felt like it was smothering me. I looked around and literally muttered, "Fuck this." I adjusted a pillow on the couch, laid down, stretched my Vellux blanket around me, tucked in, and fell asleep for an hour and a half. I feel a lot better now, but I shouldn't need nearly 11 hours sleep on a fucking work night -- and that's after a pretty healthy couple days, too.

This is also one of the only times I really, really despise wearing hearing aids. When I lay me down to sleep at night, I'm enveloped in a world of near silence. I don't hear traffic, nor winds, nor rain. And I seldom hear phones. But I have an active imagination and last night when I went to bed, I just kept thinking the phone was ringing. I got up twice, and then I tossed and turned for an hour. Sigh.

And because I've been so tired, I'm taking my stupid scooter to work even though it's raining hard and windy. I'll take side roads for better safety and wear my reflective vests. But anything's better than last Thursday, when I stood for a goddamned hour watching buses passing me again and again in the rain. No, I'd rather bond with my Goretex, get blustered about by the wind, pelted by rain, and have control of my own time. Thank you very much.

But it's Friday. Today I'll call my boss and tell her I haven't got it in me to work this weekend. I'm feeling so fucking guilty for not being out there with my dad, even though he's completely out of it. I'm angry, I'm frustrated, I'm scared. I'm everything I don't wanna be, and if I at least get out there, I'll feel like I'm doing something -- anything -- and that's the only power I have right now. Good thing is, I know she'll understand. Sure, she'll be stressed that some work's not getting done, but she's been putting me on less important tasks all week "just in case."

God. I hate this fucking waiting. And I hate that his condition isn't changing. That terrifies me. The longer it goes unchanged, I suspect the harder it will be to overcome. But what do I know? Like my uncle said yesterday, "You're not a doctor, are ya? So, what the hell can you do about it?" 'xactly. Still.