Because I wanted to be home with my kids as much as possible when they were little, I arranged with my employer a part-time position where I worked every other weekend, two 12 hour days, plus 15 hours of call. Then during the week, I worked two eight-hour days. This way the majority of my work hours fell when the kids were at their dad’s or in school. Things were a little tight money-wise, but the whole arrangement worked pretty well as long as I didn’t get too tired.
I have a long history of pushing myself pretty hard until I get sick or so exhausted I get depressed. I’m a slow learner sometimes, but I have learned that I have to listen to my body and give it what it needs for optimal functioning.
I had big plans for yesterday. Really, I did. I was going to transfer a bunch of documents from one computer to another, make a card for my friend who is going through a rough patch, go workout, take another picture of my empty refrigerator to show you guys before I went shopping and do the laundry.
But, when I woke up in the morning, my body was telling me I needed to take it easy. So I didn’t do any of those things except the laundry. And I napped and ate a big salad for lunch and didn’t change out of my pajamas (those of you who have read the 100 things threads: pajamas = clean work out clothes) all day. Somebody rang my doorbell about noon and I hunkered down on the couch. He put a flyer for a local mayoral candidate through the mail slot and went away. I read a book and played with the cat. I made eggs and toast for dinner and went to bed early. I didn’t speak to another human all day.
I was just what I needed.