That's pretty much the story of my last few months, culminating in the last weekend or so, which has involved some mystery gastrointestinal ailments and then an aching chest and hell-wreaking exhaustion that forced me to sleep a good 20 out of 24 hours yesterday and which is only now getting better tonight, thank God. Just in time for me to enjoy some of the huckleberry jam they're selling at Costco these days, bless their hearts. I tell you I was tempted to buy about 12 jars of the stuff because those bastards will probably discontinue it before I get back there. And you know I'm only allowed to go to Costco twice a year, and that's only with accompaniment, never unattended. Bad things happen when I'm left there unattended.
I should have blogged more along the way during the last few months despite the busy-ness, though, because there have been some good stories. Like the time I stayed in Albuquerque in a condo with some friends I might be writing a book with, and the walls were paper thin and there were no bathroom fans and we ate six straight meals at the taqueria down the block. Also, I was sharing a bedroom with my girlfriend. There were unkindnesses of the digestive variety, I tell you, and much needless running of the water in the bathroom sinks. Tsk tsk.
Or I could have written about the time that I was telling the family about my obsession with The Tudors, which I can stream for free on my Kindle Fire, and Addie asked about the six wives of Henry VIII, and we ended up having a very interesting discussion about the birds and bees. E. was super-excited about that turn of events, let me tell you.
Or I could tell you about how much I've been enjoying work lately--the teaching, the writing, the meetings, and I mean that sincerely--but as a result got a bit out of whack. The meditation helped me from getting sour on it, and work is just qualitatively different these days, no question about it. But then I just ran out of steam. Hit the wall. Burned out.
There have been a few sad things, too. My mom fighting her addiction and pain; my grandmother sicker still; friends and their loved ones with cancer; struggles with the self; struggles with the other. The stuff of life, wedged in and around the appointments and due dates and chatter.
Thus, the flu, I think, and the need to sleep, sleep, sleep for days straight. The fact that I'm having a wicked time with training for this next race, most likely because I'm just tired out. The falling back into drinking too much coffee and eating too many sweets just to keep the engine running.
But I'm not upset about it. I put in a lot of good, long hours at work and met some good milestones; now things don't need to be like that anymore.
Maybe the course corrections are getting easier to make. Or it doesn't all feel as serious anymore. Dinner can get on the table a little bit late, the bathroom doesn't get cleaned one week, I miss a training run. So what. So what. So what. So now I rest a little more.