Being physically tired much affects me, just like this supposed-to-be-lovely Sunday when I am feeling so devastated. I spent hours and hours cleaning my house. Soon as I finished tidying up here, there are some mess over there. When I finished cleaning up over there, soon it will be messy as I get in here. I never got really angry when my son do the mess, as I think it is part of him being a little explorer.
Soon as I finished cleaning the house, there goes the laudry basket waiting for me. A few hours later, I found myself sitting in a sofa. Starving. But then, yes I need to cook first before I can eat. And seeing my little guy playing with his lego, I remember he hasn't got his lunch also. Then I cook for him first. Just when I finished cooking my meal and ready to have my lunch, there ... I feel full already.
Then I remember I need to do some grocery shopping. Then I remember my car is dirty as well. I collected my power to go out and take my little guy for some fresh air. Oh, but then I remember that he is still in a recovery phase from his Rubella. Oh (again) it's five o'clock and I become very tense to realize that I have a meeting tomorrow and I have not prepared anything.
Oh, well.
No matter how hard I try to tell myself that I am not alone, well ... I am actually literally alone. Why is it only 24 hours in a day? Why is it only two days in the weekend? What is weekend all about? Is it the time when we have to pay our debt-time to do things that we can't do in week days?
Hell, no.
This is not going to be the rest of my weekend being 32.
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