This was an odd day for me. I’ve been a bit off. But off seems to be turning par, so maybe everything was exactly as it should have been.
I got out of bed at 9:00am. I’d been in bed nearly 12 hours. As you’d likely guess, I didn’t sleep 12 all that time, but I like to think I got a bit more sleep last night. In bed about 9:30, up at 10:15 for water and the restroom, and then I got up for the same every hour until the about 1:15, and then I just stayed in bed. I didn’t sleep all the time from then on, either, but I did sleep, and I woke up, and I may have slept more than I was awake.
I just had my first sip of wine tonight. See: odd day.
When I rolled out of bed, I felt so strangely drained. Off. I can’t really explain. I’d been up drinking water and peeing so much in the night, I didn’t expect to feel so depleted and dehydrated. I really only had 4 beers last night, stretched over several hours. I was nowhere near drunk. But I woke up just not feeling great. I slugged a Berry Veggie.
My wife had made up a batch of waffle batter (with spelt flour, and I couldn’t really tell you what that is, although I see it more and more these days [WAIT—google…and…eh, quick answer ‘cause I don’t really care is it seems to be like wheat but with more protein and fiber]). So I made myself some coffee and poured the batter in the waffle iron and I think Angie went to do some grocery shopping, but I honestly forget right now. Sure, I could ask her, but I’m not going to. It’s likely she went grocery shopping.
I made myself two waffles, nicely buttered and syruped with that wholesome maple goodness. It looked a lot like the picture below, which is a picture of my breakfast this morning. Now I want another waffle. Dang.
I sat down at the table and, even though Liam had already had breakfast, he pretended he hadn’t and I shared some waffles with him. But I only ate about ¾ of those two waffles, which I guess is still quite a bit of waffle, and I only drank half my cup of coffee. I still don’t get it.
Angie got home and we briefly discussed the non-rightness of my feeling, then I went out to handle some garden matters ‘cause, feeling good or not, some things simply must be done. I started feeling a bit better when I realized there were some beans to be picked. Not a huge amount, mind you, and not even all the same varieties—my garden, it’s just not at its best this year, which means I’m not at my best, and it’s largely the soil, I think. I’ll fix it. Don’t worry. Just not this season.
I came in with a handful of green and purple beans, enough we’ll be able to have ‘em as a side dish for dinner at some point this week. Maybe tomorrow—I don’t know what’s on the menu, and it’s not my night to cook.
But I’d come in all excited about the beans and Liam was already napping on the big bean bag. It was about 11:00, I think, so that’s cool. I wasn’t up for the farmer’s market—still just not quite right—so Angie went on while I sat back in the smaller bag, planning to read but feeling so tired. This is where things got really weird: I almost fell asleep, but then Liam stirred and was about to fall off HIS bag (he had been sleeping at a precarious angle, anyway) so I sprung up to grab him and in one swift move grabbed him, laid back in the big bag, and got him immediately back to sleep on me, and then…I NAPPED!!!
No big deal, right? Except for this: this is the third time I can remember napping since…since I can remember realizing I could never nap. Time number 2 was when Liam was just a wee guy, and I was out from work on family leave due to his having just been born (thank you, California), and I’d hurt my back and was dosed up on pain pills and I fell asleep with Liam on my chest. Angie got a photo. The only other time than that was honestly my favorite sleep ever, as weird as that may seem. A favorite sleep. But I’ll explain, briefly.
I was at geology field camp in the Tobacco Root Mountains of southwestern Montana. I was heading into my senior year of college. Or was it after? I should remember. I could check. Not important. Suffice it to say, this camp is not easy. It’s known for that fact. We were working on our final mapping project, quite a large effort, and fires had been burning all around us for a while. I mean, not instantly around us, but residents were evacuated 30 minutes away. We shouldn’t have been out hiking around in it, but there was classwork to be done. It was several days of work, and I finished up before most (or maybe all) and was pretty content to have done so. It was raining. I was in full rain gear and perfectly dry. Summer in Montana, the rain killing some of the smoke from the wildfires. I sat down somewhat low on a ridge, a valley to my left and my right converging in front of me then continuing straight away. It was beautiful. My hood was up. I leaned against my backpack and I listened to the rain drumming on my hood and…then someone woke me up to leave. I was only out…maybe an hour. But it was the best sleep ever.
Anyway, so I napped today. And I woke up at a couple of points, like when Angie got back from the market or when Liam would stir and readjust, but I slept and when Liam finally woke up and I woke up it was 1:30. I’d hardly accomplished anything, and that’s SO WEIRD for me at that point in the day (which is probably one reason I can never nap), and I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was so excited to have napped, but also feeling even more off because I’d done nothing but harvest beans and water the garden. And eat. So I ate a bit more, but I wasn’t super hungry, so it was really just the almonds and banana and an apple and then I decided I wanted to go for a bike ride.
I was thinking of just a 10-mile out-and-back. But see, Border’s is going out of business. One of my favorite things is to bike to Borders, browse around and pick out a book or two, then bike home. Realizing I wouldn’t have the opportunity to do so much longer and curious what prices had been cut to, I biked to Border’s. It’s about 17 miles round trip, depending on the route and such, but it’s generally about that.
I felt great biking there. I’d say I made good time, but since I wasn’t timing myself, I have no idea. I think I spent a long time there. Again, I have no idea. I ended up with two more books in the backlog, one of which would make my sister proud: One Hundred Years of Solitude. The other is a T.C Boyle book. These are details you don’t care about, likely, although I guess what I’ve read has shaped how I write and you’re reading my writing…which still blows my mind. I love to read.
I tried to find something for Liam and failed, so I rode back home and it was about 5:30 and I was greeted by my son-in-diaper and I got a big hug. Those things make all days great. I felt pretty good. I told Angie I’d grab a shower then cook dinner (tacos again tonight, because we’re really not all that original and tacos are relatively easy and quick), so I took a shower and then started cooking. Then, inexplicably, I really started feeling like shit; I mean real bad. I felt like I was going to vomit, or maybe pass out, but most likely vomit, but since I’d felt such guilt over not cooking Friday (when Angie made pan-fried chicken, mashed ‘taters, and salad, which I totally left out of the blog [curses!]), I got it all finished up and then laid back in the big bag to see if I’d start feeling well enough to eat.
If you don’t know, it’d probably make sense for me to explain we have giant bean bag chairs. And these aren’t the litte-foam-ball-filled bags of yesteryear, when we were all growing up, oh no—I’m talking about big 4- and 6-foot diameter polyurethane chunk (think ripped apart couch cushion) filled behemoths that never squish down to nothing (though they do take a re-fluffing from time to time), and they’re pretty much the best purchases we’ve made in the last year. If you have kids…well, just see the photo below. That’s my boy when he was 8 months old in the big bag.
Happily, the wave passed and I was able to polish off four tacos, all accompanied with more water. And things since that have been pretty standard. I poured this glass of wine, but didn’t touch it until I sat down here and typed about it earlier. I just spent my time playing with Liam and our dogs. I go out with the dogs when they need to use the restroom in recent times to keep them from destroying the garden while eating fertilizer. We all made quite a ruckus in what we tend to call the yoga room (although not much yoga is done there, and it’s pretty much a living room, I reckon) while my wife was doing some reading. I gave Liam a bath and brushed his teeth and got him dressed and Angie rocked him off to sleep.
The day has passed, and I don’t feel like I did much, but I guess that reminds me of the whole point of this blog: you don’t have to go to great lengths to be a fit and healthy person. I continue to sleep terribly. I was battling some inexplicable nausea. I got maybe 40 minutes of exercise in, and the intensity, for the point of this blog, is not important. The thing is I made myself do it. My life is boringly normal. I work; clean the house; cook food; do laundry; play with my son; play with my dogs; spend time with and talk with my wife; entertain friends; spend time on the computer; read; and sometimes exercise 20, 30, 40, or 50 minutes—or not at all. Most often it’s around 30 minutes. But I’m not on my ass all day, and that’s the point.
So good night, odd day I’ll likely remember for the rest of my life: the day of nap number 3.