The Other Side of Eighty

Us elders don't write enough about the exhaustion we feel. We put on brave and stoic faces. Well some of us do. Tasks seem to stretch out into infinity. Decisions are made about dishes vs bed-making. How many stops can I make today, library, bank, pharmacy, shop, coffee meet-up. Mentally I know I can only manage 2. Where's my wife, shouldn't she be doing the rest of the stops? Oh, I forget. It's only me. Note I didn't say husband. He'd be busy getting the oil changed (I have to do that too) but he might make dinner and shop the insurance rates. Oh yeah, I do all that too. I know there are exceptions to these hide bound female/male categories, not that I see any around me. Solo maintenance takes a hell of a lot of energy.

In case you're thinking this is all a whinge and whine, well, you'd be right.

Overwhelm is a weird condition. I don't want it. It seems to be a choice. Either ignore the list (and watch your world fold in on itself) or succumb and start ticking those boxes.

We did an hour this morning on the CBC call-in show. Talking, talking, listening, engaging, being nice. Mein Gott, it is exhausting. We were geared up then about the next communique going out to media across Canada but when we left the studio, didn't we sort of collapse in exhaustion. Unexpected then but truly no surprise when you think about it. Having headphones and engaging with listeners is tiring. Very tiring.

Though we looked right perky as we did it. Afterwards, I fell on my bed fully clothed and slept like a drunk after a bender.

When I awoke, I quickly got enraged at someone's assumption I was pushing close to 80 (it is 4 years away STILL) and that basically (she said) it was a huge stretch for me to even be web literate and then commented "God love her" as if I was some pitiable basket case drooling over my keyboard trying to find the enter button.

Easily irritated by assumptions, that's me. Old habits die hard. I don't suffer fools gladly and never have. But she did me a favour. Rage imbues me with unhealthy energy.

The Hats

I wear many hats. And I'm getting old.

And it takes me longer than it used to to switch hats. Today I'm a municipal officer, posting about fire regulations and the annual shore clean-up and recycling instructions. And I need to get into writing mode. Deadline. And edits. Deadline. And a play revamp. Deadlines. And workshop. Deadline. And a corporate tax return I was begged to do. Deadline. And I in turn need to beg someone to type up some old poetry for a publication that they downloaded to me in squinchy JPG format that a four year old couldn't read. Deadline.

And I'm tired. I feel the life is sucked out of me at the moment. I have some health issues, nothing serious, just annoyances so I phoned the doc who'll see me tomorrow morning.

And the only hat I want to wear is my reader hat. Curl up with a book that's waiting for me and tell the whole world to buzz off.

I can't even find the chef hat so's I can make my own dinner.