It's just getting to 8AM, and already I've rowed twice around the lake in a double
with Egret, and then came home an did over 6K on the erg. I'm such a stud
muffaletta.
And I didn't
href="http://drewd.diaryland.com/011202.html">sing to ELO while I was doing
it.
Though I haven't noticed it as much since I've been at home, I
usually do seem to have more energy on Mondays. Weekends are my time to recharge.
By Fridays, I'm often a rag; I've been known to burst into tears at the idea of
having to go camping for the weekend -- even though I know once I get there, it's
actually more restful than staying home. When I get really, really physically
tired, like, say, when backpacking up a mountain, I tend to get floppy and fall
down a lot. The equivalent, for mental tiredness, is similar.
Really,
though, maybe that was just symptomatic of the stress level at my last job. I
can't remember Fridays finding me so burnt-out before then. I can remember times
when the accumulated frustration of the week made me want to drive really fast,
with all the windows open and AC/DC blaring "You Shook Me", over to a bar to get
shit-faced with my co-workers and fellow frustratees (frustrants?). But that's
just pissed off, not tired to the point of tears. Given a choice, I'll take pissed
off every time.
Humph. I never realized before that that was only with that one job. I knew I
write here for a reason.
Go read this. Reminds
me of why I felt let down by the ending of C.S. Lewis's Surprised by Joy.
This is how it should have ended instead, embracing his moments of joy, instead of
deciding they were superseded by something else. But that's another entry.