My long day started when I woke up to more snow that I had anticipated, leading to more traffic problems than I was prepared for. My normal 45ish minute commute took twice that.
Then, it was just weird at the office. Not weird bad, just strange. First, everyone was late. No surprise there. Then, no attorneys in due to various engagements, a couple of people out because of the weather, and a couple then left early. It was quiet, which is nice, but had a weird feel to it.
The plans I had for the evening—one of those social painting classes that I intended to attend with my sister—fell through. Cancelled because of the weather. Are you starting to see a pattern? We’re not exactly equipped for true winter weather, and we’re having too much of it this year.
What this all boils down to is that I’m exhausted. It hasn’t been a day that seems like it should have worn me out, but it did. (hmm. Maybe that cancelled class was a blessing in disguise?) I was planning to turn in early, but then I heard Patrick Stewart was going to be on the Letterman show, so I wanted to stay up to watch that. Unfortunately, I could tell during Elementary that I wasn’t going to get anywhere close to that happening. My subtle clue? I was already falling asleep. I’m good at picking up on things like that. Sherlock has nothing on me.
Anyway, I turned on the DVR and off the TV; Sir Patrick will have to wait for another night.
But, what this all got me to thinking—both before I drifted off with about two lines of this post written, and now, when I’m slightly more awake—is that I’m getting old. I’m pretty sure that sort of thing doesn’t happen to young people. I don’t know when it happened, this aging thing, because I certainly don’t feel like an old woman. Well, you know, except for when I can’t keep my eyes open and it’s not even ten o’clock yet. I’m wondering if it feels the same for everyone.? One minute you’re just your normal, happy self, and the next you feel old and drained, with seemingly no in-between time. There was no lead up to old age, at least not that I noticed. One day I was, like, 25, and the next day . . . well, let’s just say I wasn’t. I guess age is some sort of stealthy creeper, always following you, waiting for the right moment to pounce.
Still, as they say, growing old may suck, but it’s better than the alternative, and that’s true even on really long days like today.