Wrecked

So normally when Husband is traveling things get a little bit easier, scheduling wise, cos I only have me and my schedule to consider. So I tend to say “Yes” to a lot more invitations to dinner with friends, coffee’s at Starbucks (even though I’m not a coffee drinker), trips to the mall or freak watching at the bars. For any of you wondering what the “Freak Watching” is, let me just remind you where I live, Georgia. And not downtown Atlanta neither, about 45 minutes outside the metro area. And I have to say, I have traveled many places in this world, but I have never come across as wide a variety of freaks, in one place, than you get in some of the local bars here on a Friday or Saturday night.

I had one night recently where things got so weird, that the next morning I was sure I dreamt it. It was like the crazy’s had been released from the asylum for the weekend. Or the people from the boonies loaded themselves and their cousins into a pick-up truck and drove to town to drink with them there city folks. You can also throw a few students into the mix, as well and myself (Irish and in no way am I fluent in Southern Red Neck speak) and my gay friend (someone had to represent the Queens) and that was the type of crowd we’re talking about. A recipe for weirdness.

But like I said, that’s the usual drill. However this past weekend I broke with tradition and opted to work instead. Yes, I chose to make money instead of spend it. It’s a lot less fun, but Visa really appreciated it. Usually I like to keep the weekends free so Husband and I can do things like have near death experiences in tiny planes, but since he rolled out, the days and choices were all mine.

I felt good about my decision and was already making plans for the extra money but it started to not feel worth it after a full 8 hrs on Friday, 13 hrs on Saturday and another 8 hours on Sunday. By the end of it I was so tired I was becoming emotional. The little’est task was such an effort. Sunday night it took 3 attempts and a nervous breakdown to try and get one of my shoes off. Yes, I started crying. The bastard wouldn’t come off and I had already bent up and down enough. It was obviously time for the water works. Like I said, I was emotional from pure fatigue.

And now the best part is, a whole new week is starting and I get to do it all over again. God, I could easily start crying again. I need to play the lottery more.