I’m suffering from lethargy, remnants of a fever, and post-good-vacation-spoiled-by-unrealistically-high-expectations ennui.
We arrived back from the vacation on Friday night. I wasted the weekend under a paracetamol powered haze. Spent this morning preparing for an interview that didn’t happen. The afternoon was a fight between a paracetamol powered haze and the awesomeness of Dark Knight Returns, with my sick partner, Chewie, by my side.
Now I’m sitting here waiting for dinner so I can have dosas and retire.
I have to leave for a vacation in 2 hours, and I haven’t been sadder in months.
I’m not happy about leaving for a long planned, much desired vacation.
The boy is snuggled tight against my chest, deep asleep. Little does the gentle soul know that his MA & Pa are heading off for 8 days without him.
The in laws are here, and he’ll be OK with them, at least after the first 48 hours. Yet, I spent last night waking up to nightmares about stuff happening to him – stuff ranging from probable to nearly impossible in real life.
I should sleep, but I can’t. Don’t want to waste a single minute of his soft, smelly, warm presence while I have it.
A relaxing, 3-day vacation left me so tired that I dropped flat, asleep right after finishing a 500ml Coke Zero bottle to keep me awake.