9 weeks to twinday
I am so tired. It’s almost week 32 and chronic fatigue has stepped up a gear. Whether to put it down to getting up 5 times in the night and finally giving up trying to sleep at 5am (the bonus was that I saw a beautiful strong moon casting a magical light between the shrubs on the lawn) or just the tail end of this cold, I’m not sure. Both I expect, plus being properly up the duff, and carrying an extra 3 stone about (I’ve overtaken Paul - eek! The talking scales say “one at a time please…”)
Mornings used to be my best time, for energy, enthusiasm and a general lust for life, albeit one that often waned exposing harsh reality by lunchtime. This morning my legs felt too weak to hold me up even for the time it took to make two pieces of toast and peanut butter. I was back in bed by 8am, though did manage to see to a load of washing and get a beef casserole going in the slow cooker first before I slumped. At least I don’t have to cook tonight. Love the slow cooker, it’s like someone else has made you your tea…
Lucky me that I can go back to bed - I’ve just guiltily realised that some do this with a child or two already. I have no right to complain.
Woke at 9.30 to the cleaner doing all the jobs I’m delighted to avoid. Bliss. A second breakfast is way more delicious than the first when you’re watching someone else clean the sink.