Yesterday, I woke up tired.

I got up anyway and tried to complete the morning routine. I thought about making coffee. The idea was exhausting.

I looked at my husband. “I’m still tired,” I said.

“Me too,” he answered.

“I think I’m going back to bed.” It was Saturday, so this was actually a possibility.

“Me too,” he answered.

So we did. We’d already made the bed so we crawled atop and each found a pillow. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to fall back asleep.

Three hours later we woke up; three hours.

We got up, again. By this time, the mail had arrived. At an attempt toward normalcy, I checked email. I tried to get on with the day and all that.

Problem was, I was still tired; dragging like a kite on a day with no wind. I didn’t have any wind. It was like a cloud or fog surrounded me, weighing me down. Maybe it was the wind weighing me down.

“I’m still tired,” I said.

“Me too,” he answered.

“Maybe I should make coffee,” I said. “Do you think that would help?”

“It’s too late,” he said looking at the clock, now looming toward 11 a.m.

“Maybe a shower will help,” I said.

I wasn’t confident, but I figured a shower couldn’t hurt. Hot water invigorates. Cold water, too, but I don’t like cold showers.

A shower always invigorates, except maybe this time. While drying off with my towel, I realized I was still tired. This was getting frustrating.

We ate lunch. I was hoping the food would awaken something within me. It did just the opposite. A full belly leads to yawn time. Any turkey will tell you that.

I may have been yawning uncontrollably, but I wasn’t going to succumb. I’m too stubborn.  

I attempted to do some work. I stepped outside to breathe in some fresh air. To heck with this tiredness, I was going to push on through.

But tiredness is a powerful entity. She wouldn’t leave my side and did her best to turn my every action upside down and sideways.

I went to throw in a load of laundry and mixed the colors with the whites while mistaking the bleach for detergent. I entered the kitchen to do something important, but forgot what it was. I couldn’t find my glasses. I looked everywhere for them before discovering I was already wearing them. I tried writing, but misspelled too many words. Then, my mouse battery wore out and I couldn’t find the new batteries. In desperation, I went to pour myself a cup of coffee and realized I’d never made any.

Since it was Saturday and all, I decided on a nap; another nap. A twofer “nap-fer,” which is a record even for me and I’m a fairly accomplished napper.

An hour later, I woke up as tired as I’d been an hour earlier. I began to wonder if the day was going to be a complete wash. I suspected as much.

But barreling through as one must when one must, I heaved myself up off the couch and went into the kitchen. I looked around the room wondering what I was supposed to do there. Since I couldn’t remember, I decided to institute “Plan B” and, finally, make myself a pot of good, strong coffee.

As it was brewing, I wondered how long I had to wait until it was a reasonable hour for bedtime or, at least, to get my “jammies” on.



Jill Pertler is an award-winning syndicated columnist, published playwright, author and member of the National Society of Newspaper Columnists. More columns are available at the Slices of Life page on Facebook.