To be tired.
(that term actually makes little or no sense to me, because my dogs always slept with one eye open and barked at a mouse-fart. Unless burglars were involved... and then I think they just feigned sleep, just so they wouldn't have to get up and actually do anything dangerous.)
Kind of like the photo of like this dog, which a burglar actually took whilst ransacking a house.
But I digress...
Tis the season, but not for the reasons you would expect.For me, it has more to do with the upcoming school holidays and all the prep work that has to go into that, rather than the actual Christmas thing.
I haven't even started Christmas shopping yet, and to tell you the truth... I may not do it this year anyway.
Cards are the same.
Not that I don't want to, but it's more of a financial issue this year, and with our upcoming trip to the US in April ( and time off work, which means no $$'s coming in for at least 5 weeks) I just don't have a lot of spare cash laying around right now.
Like I ever have had spare cash laying around.
When you're buying your own home, spare cash seems to be a thing of the past.
And then several friends have had birthdays this month - including a couple of momentous ones like 50th's and 60th's - so there have been parties to attend, gifts to buy for those and all the socializing that goes with it.
Not that I'm much of a socializer at the best of times, because I'm not.
Give me small groups of people - and close friends at that - and I'm fine with that.
But when there are dozens and dozens of people around, and people I don't know at all... well, just look behind the potted palms, if you want to find me.
And drinking? Ho Ho Hum. Maybe I'll have one or two, but I swear I haven't had a hangover or even anything close to a hangover, in a couple of decades now.
Because I'm boring.
And because let's face it. When you're hiding behind potted palms, catching the eye of a passing waiter so you can ask for another drink, well... it's next to impossible
(Yeah right, like I attend parties that actually have waiters? Garth Brooks said it best when he said "I've got friends in low places"... and I like it that way.)
So anyway, (I'm real good at this digressing stuff this morning, aren't I? But I have a good excuse, because I'm dog tired.) we attended a 50th birthday party on Saturday night, but luckily, it was one of my dearest friends.
And not only does she know what I'm like, I had my lad with Autism with me, so I had plenty of quiet-time tomyself while I took him off to look at the sheep pen and such, to calm him down.
And when the kid needs to go to bed, it's time to head home... so we were all tucked in by midnight.
Then on Sunday, we had a small barbeque here at home, with another dear friend and her daughter down from Bendigo... (and 4 of my daycare kids as well), but they had to head home by 3-ish, (my friend - not the kids, unfortunately) so even though it was an enjoyable visit, it was short lived.
Too short lived.
Because when it comes to Rubies, I never want us to part. Because the sharing of chocolate is always involved, when Rubies is around.
Which is why I love her so much.
So, between working 6 days straight, (and I had some kids 24 hrs a day) the party Saturday night, and then the barbeque on Sunday, I was so worn out by early evening, that I sat down in my chair to watch some telly... and I fell dead asleep.
The kind of 'dead-asleep" that means you never wake up all night, and when you wake up in the chair in the morning, your right ear is resting on your shoulder, the front of your shirt is absolutely soaked from 7 hours of drooling on yourself because you were dreaming of Sam Elliot... and you can't get up out of said chair, because of the damn crick in your neck. Which can present some tricky problems, when the first thing on your mind is "I gotta pee, NOW!"
(Which I still have, despite a couple of painkillers, a hot shower and a few cups of coffee. The neck of course.. not the pee.
And you'll notice that I used "you" rather than "I"... because it kind of distances myself from having to admit to myself that I was an idiot for not just going to bed when I wanted to, in the first place.)
So... "Party Animal"?
Nope, that's not really me.
Unless we're talking sloths, or something extremely slow moving.
Yep, I've got it... I'm "Tater, the Partying Porcupine."