Dec. 28th, 2010 08:17 pm
The sun out of your bum
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
muckefuckIf anything, I think I'm even more tired than yesterday. I feel like I'm winning the struggle against this cold, but it's coming at a price.
How is it that I always return from Christmas holidays so exhausted? If you count up the hours, I got about as much sleep as I would've had I been here working. And the bed wasn't bad now that Mom's gotten a new bed and swapped out the lumpy old futon for her old one. Part of the explanation is the later schedule, since socialising (i.e. playing games) with my sister and BIL can't really hit its stride until after the children are in bed. That kept me up past midnight pretty much every day I was there.
But part of it a simple lack of resistance to people. The analogy that I've been making to everyone is food-based, put perhaps a better one (at least for those with a background like mine) is "good day guilt". (Cue memory of your mother telling you, "What are you doing sitting around inside? It's a beautiful day out!") During my last trip to California, I met a transplanted Midwesterner who talked about running herself ragged when she first arrived; every day was so darn beautiful, she couldn't let it "go to waste". After a while, her sister (who'd moved out before her) had to explain, "Every day is 'beautiful'. You can't make the most of them all."
So it is with me and people. We have visitors to the house so rarely, they are like spells of good weather. I go into überhost mode, basking in the attention and running from room to room to make sure I get a little time with everyone. Now, that's fine when they're around for a six hour stretch, or a couple days at most. But there were literally people in my sister's house all the time. Little people, big people, people I cherish and I don't see enough of. So no matter how tired I was, I never wanted to tear myself away. It took a combination of travel anxiety and concern for my mother (who had some nasty bug) to get me to leave at the reasonable time I did on Sunday night.
And that was despite the fact that Sunday morning was when it all caught up to me. I really really didn't want to get out of bed, I was so worn out. But I'd promised to go hiking with my dad and really couldn't disappoint him, given that he was the one I'd seen the least of. Unfortunately, it drastically shortened our visit since I needed to be back to Sis' before four p.m. to start the sauerbraten I'd promised her. I thought I'd be done in before ten o'clock, but then we had our own little episode of a daytime talk show break out and the adrenalin carried me through, so we had a last bout of gaming after all.
Whew. I get knackered just thinking about it!
How is it that I always return from Christmas holidays so exhausted? If you count up the hours, I got about as much sleep as I would've had I been here working. And the bed wasn't bad now that Mom's gotten a new bed and swapped out the lumpy old futon for her old one. Part of the explanation is the later schedule, since socialising (i.e. playing games) with my sister and BIL can't really hit its stride until after the children are in bed. That kept me up past midnight pretty much every day I was there.
But part of it a simple lack of resistance to people. The analogy that I've been making to everyone is food-based, put perhaps a better one (at least for those with a background like mine) is "good day guilt". (Cue memory of your mother telling you, "What are you doing sitting around inside? It's a beautiful day out!") During my last trip to California, I met a transplanted Midwesterner who talked about running herself ragged when she first arrived; every day was so darn beautiful, she couldn't let it "go to waste". After a while, her sister (who'd moved out before her) had to explain, "Every day is 'beautiful'. You can't make the most of them all."
So it is with me and people. We have visitors to the house so rarely, they are like spells of good weather. I go into überhost mode, basking in the attention and running from room to room to make sure I get a little time with everyone. Now, that's fine when they're around for a six hour stretch, or a couple days at most. But there were literally people in my sister's house all the time. Little people, big people, people I cherish and I don't see enough of. So no matter how tired I was, I never wanted to tear myself away. It took a combination of travel anxiety and concern for my mother (who had some nasty bug) to get me to leave at the reasonable time I did on Sunday night.
And that was despite the fact that Sunday morning was when it all caught up to me. I really really didn't want to get out of bed, I was so worn out. But I'd promised to go hiking with my dad and really couldn't disappoint him, given that he was the one I'd seen the least of. Unfortunately, it drastically shortened our visit since I needed to be back to Sis' before four p.m. to start the sauerbraten I'd promised her. I thought I'd be done in before ten o'clock, but then we had our own little episode of a daytime talk show break out and the adrenalin carried me through, so we had a last bout of gaming after all.
Whew. I get knackered just thinking about it!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject