I am almost shaking with excitement. Little sparks of energy are throbbing in my veins and my eyes are wide open. It’s Friday afternoon and I’m wired.
Relax Mum, I’m not drugged to the eyeballs. There’s no reason to call an intervention – unless you wish to do so. And if you do, please make it happen in a cafe with industrial strength coffee. Syringe optional.
You see I’m knackered. Absolutely knackered. One of the downsides of having my Englishman living in the same country as us is that he is still operating on Greenwich Mean Time. Which means, I’m operating on a 24 hour clock.
He claims he doesn’t suffer from jet lag but I beg to politely but emphatically disagree.
Consider the evidence. He’s been here for three weeks and he’s still sleeping till mid-morning and ‘waking up’ around about 9 pm. Just as my enthusiasm for sane thinking starts to wane, his face erupts into smiles and he becomes VERY chatty.
Think Tigger on speed.
It’s not what you want to hear or see at sensible-time-of-night-to-sleep-o’clock. His joie de vivre may well be infectious, but I’m thoroughly immunised against that strain of infection.
Last night was a perfect case in point. I was working on the blog (Yes, I know there’s still an errant bit of code on the sidebar, can we pretend it’s CIA code for PRISM?) when the whole bloody thing crashed. As in 500 Internal Server error smashed and broken. I may have cried a little and do not ask me to repeat what I may have uttered.
Let’s just say it was entirely religious.
So I was lip-bitingly involved in trying to get the blog back up again, when my Englishman started to perk up for the UK morn. Cue fervent activity with real estate people and movers and phone calls at 1130 pm. The matchsticks holding my eyelids up gave way at about 1230 helpfully just as I managed to restore the blog, so I headed to bed. It was cold in there on my own!
I have no idea what time my Englishman joined me but I’m pretty sure I heard singing at 3am.
Though on reflection, I think it was Son singing with headphones on whilst engaging UK gamers in awesome battles to the virtual death. Doesn’t he have a Uni exam tomorrow morning?
And why do the men in my household not need sleep?
So with Son up till sparrow’s fart and my Englishman tripping the moonlight fantastic, and the dog barking for bikkies at 430am I woke a tad grumpy this morning. My mood deteriorated even further when I realised that my Englishman could not be woken.
Muttering I poured myself a cup of strength and started to check Facebook messages when Cat from Catalina’s Cottage said ‘See you shortly’. Bugger! It was 930am already I had only 20 minutes to get to the Auckland Blogger’s group in Greenlane, right across town.
The Bloggy thang was great fun, and fantastically inspiring to meet bloggers like Melissa from The Best Nest and Simone from Great Fun 4 Kids and Cat from Catalinas Cottage. Bloggers are such cool people!
I came home shaking with excitement about all the cool plans I have in mind and burst through the door at 1245 to share them with my Englishman.
He was wide-eyed and bushy tailed after a whole morning of productive work and job hunting. Or. So. I. thought.
And then I spied his wet hair ….from a very recent shower.
“Those pills are great,” he nodded. “I slept for over 12 hours.”
Thinking very dark thoughts about lacing cups of tea with arsenic I wandered back to the shrine of java and made yet another industrial strength coffee. What jet lag eh?
Do you all share the same circadian rhythms in your house? And if your partner travels a lot how do you deal with their disrupted sleep patterns?
What weird and wonderful things do you do to get some sleep?