While on Arran last year working diabolically long days without pause, I coined the term 'silly tired' to define the condition of being so tired that it is, well, silly; able to fall asleep in the blink of an eye and living in a kind of dream world with a perma-headache. I am sure the parents of the world will associate this condition with small children, but believe me, the catering industry can replicate these effects in the comfort of your own body especially if you lose all your staff and gain a kitten.
The reason I refer to this feeling today is because I am under the influence of a strange side effect of silly-tired, which is the need to keep multitasking in the face of exhaustion and prolong the work experience as long as is humanly possible before collapsing. It is as if a strange force takes hold of me and I am no longer in rational control of the projects I am carrying out. Today I managed a rota misfunction and arrived at work at seven of the a. m. having arisen at half of the five. Then discovered that I was an hour and half early, that my shift was actually nine and not four hours long, and that the evil early wake-up will have to be repeated next Saturday, when the shift is actually scheduled. I remained the calm little centre of the universe but a few words of an un-docile nature were whispered inwardly. Having 'lost' the hours of the afternoon in which I had planned to visit IKEA for small household items including a new bathmat and a lamp, clean areas of the house and install these items, paint three box canvases and make dinner, I have been attempting to fit them into the hours of evening which were earmarked for sitting on a sofa under a cat in the light of the new lamp reading a book and possibly snoozing. And so continues silly-tired and its evil cycle of exhaustion, forever feeding off itself and closing down opportunities for restorative slumber.
But enough already; I still have three box canvases to paint and its already half of the seven.
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