I turned the clock over another notch yesterday. Another mark on a totem pole that speaks of my life. I went home, found a gift from my lovely wife, and we went out to dinner, just around the corner behind our home. We got back a bit later, and I was not half an hour on the couch before I started snoozing.
When I woke a few minutes later, Tress and I laughed about how we have swapped roles. Back when she was with Myer at Docklands, she’d be the one who’d disappear into dreamland not long after sitting on the couch, at the end of a busy day’s work. She was with that blighted organisation for over a decade. She has earned her right to stay awake on the couch these days.
Maybe I tire more easily now because I don’t exercise as much as I used to. Maybe my work is more focused and intense now, although I wouldn’t have thought my previous roles were easier than the present one. I do however, put in a solid block of 9-10 hours every day and often, when I’m home, I’m inclined to do as little as possible. A glass or two of a very pleasant red would soften me up sufficiently to slip away into dreamtime.
I struggle to stay awake at night these days – as early as 8.30pm, I’d be “slip-sliding away”