March 6, 2013

A darkness of the mind

I shouldn't make even the smallest decisions, much less operate heavy machinery first thing in the morning. This is nothing new, but it has been even worse lately. I am up to about fifty-five hours a week at work now, and with the commute, I am gone for twelve hours at a time. The minimal watts of brain power I usually operate on before the sun rises has dimmed even further. 

The hours of sunlight are getting longer, but the hours at work are matching the increase, so I am still heading out and coming home in the dark. Sierra and I wander the yard pre-dawn and post-dusk, so her already cloudy navigation skills are further limited. However, there is a light on the corner of the house to lead her to the yard, and the porch light to lead her back. When she wandered aimlessly one morning as I was late for work, I said, "c'mon puppy, just head toward the light." No, wait, don't head toward the light!

Since I can't seem to get home in time to get in a run, I have been heading out on my lunch hour a couple times a week. Steve has encouraged this to keep sane during the crazy season. I only have time for a couple of miles, but heading outside and getting the blood pumping does help clear the head. Unfortunately, not quite enough. 

A morning routine has more or less fallen into place. Wake up, feed the dog, prep the shot, take her out, shower, eat, give the shot, take the dog out once more, scoop poop, drive away - all in about 45 minutes. Even with repetition, there are hiccups. Tuesday I forgot my running shirt, so no run at lunch time. This morning I remembered the shirt, but forgot the lunch I had packed the night before, so no run again. I was sitting in my car feeling like banging my head against the steering wheel when our Admin Tamara drove in. I explained my moronitude as we rode up in the elevator. 

Under the strain of the longer hours, shorter nights, and trying to figure out what the heck I am doing, my brain is breaking. I am feeling a whole lot dumber lately. A couple of hours later, I was at the copier "making copies". I made some sort of error, and said (I thought) under my breath, "dumbass". Without missing a beat, Tamara said from across the room, "No you're not." 

It was a nice reminder that I am not as dumb as I am feeling right now. Also, that I need to avoid falling back into the habit of knocking myself down over stupid mistakes. It is a terrible habit, and it certainly doesn't make me any smarter. 

I swear I am going to remember my lunch tomorrow.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Enjoyed reading Share the Road, both the story and the rich detailing of the kind of picky little stuff I notice also when riding or simply living. I hope you can stabilize the chaos of a new job and be able to spend some of your down time writing. I will be looking for your next novel.

PS You are not a dumbass; nobody who writes like you could be a dumbass.