I was dull this weekend. Incredibly, boringly, hideously sensible. But it was worth it.
The last couple of weeks has seen me struggle through each day with an exhausting cough, racking my body with each bellowing bark. I’ve struggled to sleep, speak and breathe. It’s not been ideal – especially as one stream of income relies on my speech. It’s hard doing radio when you have a cough threatening to erupt all over the microphone every two minutes.
But it was my oldest friend’s birthday this weekend. I wanted to be at her party in Bristol more than anything. I’d been looking forward to a night of irresponsible behaviour, having too much to drink, dancing and catching up with friends I haven’t seen for years. On Friday night I was starting to feel better. I put my cough to one side and half made up my mind to be at the party the following night – no matter how I felt.
And then I woke up on Saturday morning and knew I couldn’t go.
The cough was still there. I was tired from a 60+ hour week of work and our renewed term-time activities of swimming, Monkey Music, etc etc. I looked at my busy two year old and knew that if I pushed my body to the limit that night, I would pay for it every day for the following week.
So I cancelled.
I was in a mood all yesterday afternoon and evening. Suddenly, I was 14 again, worrying about missing the party and all the fun stuff. I watched The X Factor in my slippers and felt about 60 years old. I slouched on the sofa, feeling thoroughly miserable, ill and unsociable. My husband remarked more than once that I was “too bloody mardy” and needed to “pull myself together”.
But this morning, as my toddler padded into our bedroom and clambered into bed with us, I knew I’d made the right choice.
I woke up in my own bed, without feeling dead. I didn’t want to put a pillow over my head as I mourned a lack of sleep and too much wine. I felt – cough aside – human.
So rather than continue the “mardiness”, I ended up in the park by 9am, pushing Elton John on the swings. I did a bit of housework (desperately unusual for me) and actually met a work deadline more than 48 hours in advance. We went blackberry picking and I baked a crumble.
Sometimes it pays to be dull.
Remind me of this next weekend.
This near 60 year old would never watch X Factor on a Saturday night! love ma x
Sorry Ma – I meant Strictly… x
This is me… I always get so excited about going out, and then in the 24hrs prior start to dread every second. It can go either way; sometimes I make myself go and have an amazing time; sometimes I cancel and feel bad but grateful. Life would be a different place with more sleep!
I would have loved to have gone if I hadn’t got the cough of doom. With my hectic work schedule I can only maintain the hours if I’m on top form – and last week I wasn’t feeling great so knew a weekend of too much wine and not enough sleep would finish me off!
I feel like that! We have been away part of 3 of the last 4 weekends and I’m paying for it in the week. Having said that, we got home last night and today, I went to Body Pump, then after lunch, I ended up baking with my two (biscuits and soda bread) and before I know it, it was teatime and homework was still not fully done so I oversaw that. It was half past 6 by the time I finally got a shower. But it was totally worth it as they were telling OH when he got home what they’d done and were very proud of their efforts. And the fact that they’re actually ready for the week at school.
Blimey – just reading this comment made me tired! You did all that in one day?!
Your trouble is that you are a long hard slog away from middle age. When you reach it you’ll realise that three nights out a year are ample.
I’m already starting to think that way now. And I’m not even 29 yet. There’s no hope.