I have closed at work the past two nights. Not my favorite shifts but were at least nights when we close at eleven. I'm simply too old to close on weekends anymore, when we are open until one AM. They are extremely profitable shifts but at my age tend to profit more from beauty sleep and a late night glass of wine.
Last night at work I felt exhausted the entire shift. When I'm not perky, everyone notices and more than a few co workers mentioned it to me. Tim had gotten back from his trip to Georgia before eleven AM and I ran errands most of the day, before heading into work at six PM. The storms came rumbling through Orlando around two and were pretty intense. Tim was only home for the day, heading out the next morning to work out of town the rest of the week.
I struggled through the shift and actually made pretty great money using my 'Game Face' but came home (as we say in the south) wore slap out.
I got up when Tim left (six AM) and tumbled back to bed as soon as he shut the front door behind him. I didn't sleep the entire time but never bothered to rise to a vertical position either. Massey left the house around one for work and since our dogs can't tell on me, remained in bed until two.
I blame it partly on Tim, for buying us a king size, dual mattress, adjustable Tempur-Pedic bed with his discount from work. Icing on the cake are the jersey sheets and pillow cases I bought. Trust me, buy jersey (tee shirt material) sheets and you won't want to get out of them either.
So I didn't.
Two o'clock hit but no one was at home, the dogs had been fed and let out and General Hospital came on the TV.
Why get up now?
I watched GH with my back to the TV. I've been watching it so long I don't need to look at the screen, listening to the (redunkulous) storyline is enough to let me know everything I need to know. It's never watch worthy until Friday's cliffhanger episode.
Then three o'clock hit.
I moved my tired legs with all their popping veins across those wonderful sheets and thought to myself, "Let's see (actually listen) what kind of goofballs Steve Harvey has on the Family Feud today? I still have three hours before work.
I was still the only human in the house, didn't have to be at work until six so what the hey?
The question was "Name something your dog would do with a bone that you might do with your husband?"
Can you believe none of them guessed "Bury it?"
I mentally and physically pulled myself out of bed at three thirty...with two and a half hours to spare.
I made some tuna salad, ate some and packed the rest in my trusty lunch box.
I felt like a new woman when I walked into work. I'd done absolutely nothing for over ten hours, and apparently was all I needed to recharge my ole lady battery.
I'm almost fifty eight years old, have been slinging plates full time since 1979 and is enough to make any person feel tired.
You have to pace yourself if you want to win the race yourself.
I told Tim as he left for out of town the other day that I didn't want to work five days a week anymore.
He said "Well then, don't."
I feel okay with this decision and apparently so does he.
It might (will) mean tightening my financial belt but I'm okay with that. Yes I'm a slow learner at a new job but have finally hit my stride after a seventeen month long training period. I actually have people who ask for my table now....who'd a thunk it??
I'm beginning to build up my formerly pitiful savings account again. We are well on the road to recovery and although I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, am sharp enough to know when it is time to kick it down a notch.
It's simply time to realize I'm not a kid anymore...as much as I wish I was.
I'm going to keep working five days a week for a bit more, stash away as much as I can, then begin to stop and smell the roses... working four days a week.
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger...and it did. Our road the past five years proved that to be a true fact.
I'm not killing myself anymore... been there done that.
But I feel like working full time is.
Bit by bit, day by day, shift by shift.
It's time for me to catch up with my gray hair, wrinkles, aches and pains...while I still can.
I'm not slowing down, trust me. I'm simply deciding after almost forty years of doing the same thing five , sometimes six and often times seven days a week...it's time to stop and truly smell the roses of life, because they don't bloom forever.
Till next time,
A much contented COTTON
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