Monday 31 January 2011


I’m in a hotel watching breakfast TV – the segment is discussing men that have ‘man boobs,’ and how it has ruined their lives. God I love morning television. More importantly than man boobs, I am on my own, not a King or partner in sight. No, I haven’t run away. Well, perhaps I have, but only momentarily. My partner kindly agreed to let me have the night off so that I could sleep. Between jetlag and the neighbors, my face has started to resemble Rocky Balboa’s after his bout with Apollo Creed. Okay, fine, I’m not that scary, but I do appear as though I haven’t slept for a considerable amount of time.

For all those ooohing and aaahing about how nice my partner is for letting me do this, you are correct, he is one of the kindest men out there. But aside from his kindness, I also have a sneaking suspicion that he too needed the day off, from me that is. Fatigue can do some tricky things to one’s communication skills and their patience. I’m woman enough to admit that when I haven’t slept I start to behave as rationally as the King when he’s woken up too early from his nap.

So here’s the thing with the planned escape, it’s never quite as you imagine it (is it me, or do you imagine large marble bathtubs with butlers that bring you drinks with umbrellas in them?? Yes, I dream large). Whereas time usually just ticks by at a somewhat agonizing pace (when you’re a Mother some days can feel so long you actually start to think they’ve added hours to the day), when you have time to yourself, time suddenly flies by at such a pace you can’t figure out what you did with the last half hour. 

Then there is the pressure to do things you normally don’t have time to do. Your options are limitless: should I eat? And when I say eat, I mean eat sitting down with silverware and actually chew my food? Should I watch TV? Should I read a book...take up a hobby? Then, realizing how much time is actually left of your day, you suddenly feel compelled to start combining things. Maybe I should take a bath whilst reading a book, doing my nails and eating a slice of quiche (that someone else cooked of course)? Yeah, I could manage that, I’m a woman, I’m a multi-tasking maniac.

Then comes the moment during your day off when you realize that you could simply sit and do nothing and suddenly just staring at the wall watching the paint peel seems somehow appealing. You realize you don’t have to pick up, fold, wipe, turn down, chop, appease, soothe, solve, or entertain anything. In fact, you suddenly realize that doing absolutely nothing feels somehow odd and foreign and you do not quite remember how to do it.

And of course when it comes to sleeping, really sleeping without interruptions of any kind, the pressure lays its heavy body on your chest like a three hundred pound gorilla. ‘I CAN sleep. I must sleep. God I want to sleep. Oh sleep, please let me sleep!!’ Last night I woke up about six times, purely to check that I was still sleeping and nothing was preventing me from sleep. God I'm pathetic.

By far the most ironic part of my day/night off away from the King and my partner is how many times I thought to myself, "I wonder what they’re doing?..Gosh, the King would love this remote, I mean this remote has a ton of buttons. He loves buttons...and my partner would love how dark this room gets, it’s like an abyss of darkness, he loves sleeping in absolute darkness"….and so on. And then I realize I miss them, I’m still tired (and probably always will be) and I want to go home. 

Women can be so ridiculous...although I will deny I ever said that.
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