Today I woke up worse off than yesterday. Maybe running 12 miles sick wasn't so genius, but I am crazy that way and I am not sorry I did it. My achy body wins out today and gives me no choice but to surrender myself to rest and ignore the mountains of cleaning, dishes, and shopping needs calling my name. Trying to ignore what's not getting done causes a certain level of stress itself.
Since September my sick verses healthy time has been maddening. I get over a nasty cold and a week later a sinus infection. Now I have strep, which is really zapping my joy and I am starting to cough. Ugh, is all I can say.
I started antibiotics Thursday and I am still barely better. My best guess is lack of sleep must be contributing to the problem. I require nine and a half to ten hours a night. It's almost impossible working full time to achieve that.
My goal of four workouts a week is shot, only three this week. Bummer.
So the plan is to make a carefully crafted nest on the sofa to read and watch TV. Ha!
Snap shot (I am trying to be brief)
Wake up, feel blah, trip over cats, stumble downstairs to pantry, put food in bowls, sweep the kitchen, rinse the water bowl and replace with fresh water. Change puppy pads. Tweek my old toothless orange cat, for unknown reasons decided he won't get in a litter box so he has puppy pads I change several times a day (sigh).
Once everything is clean it's a mad dash to use the clean litter. So, second round, clean both litter boxes change puppy pads again and sweep. Junior shows up now and he only drinks from the kitchen faucet. Patiently I wait for him to consume water. About this time Otto decides he hasn't had enough attention so he picks on Tweek to divert my attention. I chase him and ultimately praise him for being responsive, and he prances off happily. Some mornings he isn't that responsive so I have to break out the squirt gun. Anyway, back to the kitchen and turn off faucet. BooBoo is now wailing to go out by the front door. BooBoo decides I'm to slow so he wrestles Junior and pins him until I obediently open the door for him.
BooBoo (our last and final adopted cat ever!) was a neighborhood prowler and during Hurricane Sandy my hubby was worried about him and let him in. He's the only cat who goes in and out and has claws. We did fix him, but I wasn't trying to make our house his permanent residence so I keep letting him out and he keeps coming back.
Junior has a sensitive tummy so he spits up, annoyingly, behind the sofa. Pull out the sofa, clean up, drag out vacuum, run it over the spot, push sofa back in place. I'm sweating now. Misty (could be any of them) calls for attention now by knocking my IPOD off the table. BooBoo reappears at the door crying to come in. This is the usual routine about 3x's day.
All is calm for a moment.
Quietly, I creep to the sofa to nestle and realize a glass of iced tea would be nice. Back to the kitchen and pour the dribbles out of the container (sighing loudly) I pull out my gallon pot, boil the water, add bags, soak, add sweetener, cool.
Round two, I slink my way to my anxiously awaited rest session and Otto is carefully curled up centered in my spot.
Some days going out and running is actually easier than resting.