Too Damn Tired

Title says it all. Long day, mentally & physically exhausted.

Too Darn Tired

By:  Joanne Flatt

February 1, 2005

She drags herself into the bathroom and switches on the light.  Without looking in the mirror she starts to pull off her sweatshirt and curses as it snags and pulls her hair.  It’s been a good day, but a long one and she’s so tired she didn’t notice she’d pulled out mismatched pajamas from her dresser drawer as she passed through the bedroom.  Who would care if the flannel top with images of toothpaste tubes and brushes didn’t match the flannel pants with the rubber ducky print?  Nobody, that’s who.  Nobody would give a damn what she was wearing to bed, least of all her.

With the gray, government-issue sweatshirt tossed over the shower doors she reaches up and pulls off the equally gray matching turtleneck.  Gray.  Better than the old navy ones that showed every speck of dandruff, but not very attractive at all.  Attractive?  Please.  It’s a uniform.  Designed by and for men.  It looked terrible on a woman’s body and hers was indeed a woman’s body.  Full and curvy.  Not straight up and down and slim like the young men the clothes were designed for.  They didn’t fit well and they looked even worse, but she had to wear them.

The bunker pants were next, but first the heavy, clunky boots.  Combat boots.  The very type of boot the kids in her neighborhood made fun of each other by teasing: “Your mutha wears combat boots!”  Jersey kids.  Great accent.  Oh well.  The boots land with a thud on the cold tile floor.  The pants fall silently and she kicks them off.  The bra is next.  A quick unsnapping and it falls forward to be folded on the shelf over the clean towels.  She pulls on the mismatched flannel pajamas and folds the bunker pants before hanging them over the shower with the sweatshirt.  There, it’s off.  With the uniform replaced by flannel pajamas the change is complete.  From masculine ugliness to a more feminine sloppy look.  At least they’re comfortable. 

Without a single glance towards the mirror she leaves the bathroom and takes a few steps from the door to where the computer is.  She would have taken a much-needed shower if she had the strength to stand up that long, but that can wait till morning.  She reaches down with a groan as she bends and pushes the power button.  Pulling out the worn brown chair she sits and stares at the screen as the computer boots itself up and comes to life.  What should she do first?  Check e-mail?  Do some writing?  Surf the web for a while?  Shop!  She logs on and goes to several of her favorite sites to see what’s new.  Nothing exciting and she’s really not in the mood to shop anyway.  Just too darn tired.  She checks the new real estate listings because she’s had her sister’s house on her mind for two days now.  Another expensive addition.  How does she afford it???  Who cares?  This is too depressing.  She logs off and kicks on the word processor.  

Writing is the perfect escape.  It gives her a chance to say things without really thinking and to think about things in the privacy of her own mind.  She’s tired and really shouldn’t write - or think for that matter - not when she’s so damn tired.  She knows this and is thinking just that exact thought at this very moment.  She knows she needs to just crawl into her bed.  It’s just a few feet away and it looks so inviting.  That’s exactly what she’ll do.  Go to bed.  Sleep.  Dream?  Maybe. 

One more bend and a touch of the button and the power eases off.  Programs close and the computer shuts down - just as she herself is doing.  She closes the cabinet - she hates when it’s left open - and grabs her pillows off the chair beside the bed.  She keeps them there so the dogs won’t get to them, but they manage to in spite of her efforts to keep them clean.  The pillows now tossed into place she mists them with the lavender linen spray she keeps on her nightstand.  It’s so wonderfully soothing.  Up onto the bed and down under the covers she fusses with the pillows until she gets them both just right.  A few tired thoughts and her mind drifts off.  “I’m so… damn… tired.”  With that, she sleeps.  

Author's Note

Be honest.