She died from sleep deprivation.
But seriously, guys. All I can think about is how tired I am. Last week I told my (ahem, childless) co-worker that I was really tired. Which already sounded wrong coming out of my mouth after just returning from a vacation.
Then yesterday I told said co-worker how I was even more exhausted after the weekend, and her response was, “Tired still after the weekend?”
Yeah, I know. Who comes back from the weekend tired? Oh, remember now–people with roommates who don’t understand sleeping in on weekends. Or what a weekend is. Or anything beyond morning milk demands, mid-day meals, and bath time.
And I thought about it. I will never be un-tired again. In like forever. Until this demanding little blob is a teen. I love having teenagers. Not only can they do simple things like dress themselves and not poop their pants, they can also do helpful things like go to the store to buy forgotten recipe items, or feed their more demanding younger roommate. Or understand what Saturday mornings are for.
Thus the new Emily. The brain-melty Emily that functions on less that 6 hours of sleep. Which I know some people can do without becoming melty-brain replicas of their former selves. But not this girl.
But it’s not all bad, at least I have these goofballs to keep my tired butt happy. Them and caffeine.