I’m a sleep talker. It gets worse the lower my personal fuel tank gets. Now it appears I am a sleep walker as well. Joyful
Yesterday, I just had no spoons left. It happens. I was scheduled to make more banana bread for my husband. I was also asked to do this this and that. Normally, not a problem. Well, it became a problem.
I spent the day napping on and off. My body obviously needed it, and my brain settled in for a british cooking show marathon playlist I have saved. I curled up with Duke, and other than getting up to pee, and occassionally eat, I spent the whole day in bed.
On one of those trips to pee, I don’t remember yelling at my husband. I don’t remember the conversation. I don’t really remember getting up to pee. He informed of this later.
Back when my brother’s sons were teenagers, I stayed with my brother and his family for awhile. They learned quickly that if I was out cold, I was out cold. They could have conversations with me, and I wouldn’t remember them. I don’t know how far they went with it, but it was a part of life.
Now, I guess it’s back. I’m not too worried quite yet. I’m going to just focus on the next thing to do. I also owe my husband and amends I didn’t know I needed to make.
The funny part? He said he asked me what was wrong with me, and I said that it was him. Sighs. I’ve been really stressed lately.
Hugs, be gentle today. -L
AnonymousKnitter 