That’s how I feel today: like I’m the lone cowpoke tasked with riding drag on the cattle drive, which means I’m choking on the world’s dust. Or maybe I just watched too many Rawhide episodes as a kid.
Today hasn’t been a particularly long day. But it’s one of those days that FEELS like a long day. I find myself now, at the end of everything, with the child unit tucked into bed and the washer and dryer humming their music in the background, sitting here in front of my computer and feeling exhausted. Is it this winter that just can’t seem to figure out when it’s time to pack up its toys and go home? Is it the one-two-punch of kidney infection and sinus infection I’ve had over the past three weeks or so? Is it the thought that my husband will be away from home for several days, starting tomorrow, which means all adult responsibility falls onto my shoulders? Is it the realization that my mother arrives in less than a week and I still have a lot to do to get the house ready for her extended visit?
Maybe it’s a combination of all these things. Or maybe I’m just lazy and whiny. Or maybe it’s a combination of these things AND I’m lazy and whiny. I honestly don’t know. But I do know I wish I could check out of life for a bit — just hunker down in bed with the covers pulled up over my head and let the world slide by for a day or two. Or, perhaps, three.
But, there are meetings to attend and lunches to make and laundry to do and dogs to bathe and errands to run and appointments to make and calendars to schedule and dinners to cook and groceries to buy and on and on and on. A never-ending litany of adult life. When I was a kid, I thought it would be so grand to be an adult. I used to daydream about how I would be able to do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, and how there would be no one to hold me back or remind me of life’s rules. Now, I know better. No one tells you, when you’re a kid, that being an adult often sucks. Or that there are more rules than ever. Or that you will spend a ridiculous amount of time cleaning up dog barf. (Well, I guess this wouldn’t apply if you don’t have a dog. But I have two, and I end up cleaning up a LOT of barf. Why don’t dogs figure out that whole “don’t put things in your mouth” thing? But that’s a post for another time, I suppose.)
I guess it’s a good thing no one tells kids what adult life is really like. If they did, no one would ever want to grow up. I know I wouldn’t have.