Don’t you hate when you’re tired and worn out and you’ve already made plans and you don’t have a good excuse to get out of them -or at least one you can live with- so you go anyway? And you hide your yawns and you try to concentrate. You laugh and joke and do your best to engage but your mind still slips to thoughts of your home, and your bed.
This was my night. I’d already made plans. I came home from work, rushed around, showered and got ready to go. Then, on the drive, it hit me: I am too tired for this. But, I couldn’t go home now, so I showed up. Right place, right time, wrong person. Me, of course. I just wasn’t there.
I played with my brain a little. Trying to repeat things that were said, so I’d remember. So I could remind myself I cared. So I could stay awake. I looked at the lights, squinted a little. I watched the kids running around, hoping their screams would keep me awake. I gazed out the window, and at the television. Hockey on one, basketball on the other. It’s that time of year, I told myself.
Two hours in, I couldn’t hide the yawning anymore. I yawned, politely. I stretched a little, drank more water and was glad when the check came. I had laughed, I had asked questions. I tried to be engaged, and engaging- figuring the entire time that it seemed so fake. The bad news is, I don’t know if it worked. The good news is, I’m still too tired to care.