I’m okay, I’m okay

About four o’clock yesterday I arrived at a complete state of exhaustion. I guess it dawned on me that that was what was up. Physical and mental, emotional as well. Too tired to even ponder for a moment how tired I was, what I wasn’t capable of thinking of. Whipped. Strung out. Really, really – really – tired.

It was one of my “Duh” moments, having been down and up and down and up sets of stairs, hauling and lugging, grabbing and moving one heavy box after another. Straining to move a rug from storage to a bedroom floor. Two ‘homes’ to move to one. Never-ending, seemingly, stuff and things, possessions, long-loved favorites, the practical and the very special.

So I’m driving back from changing my address at the credit union and leaning out on the Vermont Street bridge, where I felt I may stay forever, and, off the bridge, carefully looking for keto and organic and humane foods at Trader Joe’s. And I’m heading back on Robinson and it’s sunny and beautiful and a little hot, and like a most gentle whack upside the head from a saber tooth tiger, it dawned on me. I’m 74 and a half and it’s all been quite a lot. Plus working a four-day work week for the first time since the spring of 2011. And this. Permission – It’s okay to be really tired, kid.