A Glorious Mess

I didn’t have my glasses on when the text appeared on my phone screen. With toner in my fringe and wet dreads dripping down my back, I was busy and distracted. I didn’t want to ruin the frames of my fairly new glasses by getting hair product stains on them, but neither did I want to wait fifteen more minutes to read the message.  My quick solution was to put my glasses up to my eyes lens first, even though I have different scripts in each eye and they’d now be backwards, and take a punt at what the words said.

I was trying to finish my hair before stepping out for my weekly singing lesson, followed by a brief return home and then out again for the dreadlock maintenance I have every ten weeks. My hair has to be dry and clean to have it done, but I was too tired on Friday after work to wash it as I didn’t want to risk falling asleep with wet hair because it causes dread rot, which is the smell people associate with dreads. Standing in the bathroom, glasses on the wrong way, with too many things going on at once, I read the text: “I am in quarantine for COVID. Can’t see you for two weeks. Next time, let’s meet in a park”.

I instantly felt sorry for my singing teacher and sent her a message saying I hoped she felt okay. I’d been looking forward to my lesson, but I understood her need to cancel. We were novids until September this year, and we have no interest in getting sick again. I giggled at the thought of singing in a park amongst all the joggers, parents pushing prams and kids playing on the playground. As I rinsed the toner out of my fringe, I mentally rearranged my day and headed outside to do things in the sun to help my hair dry faster.

About 30 minutes later, I came inside and noticed my phone flashing with new messages. I felt sick when I saw two messages from my singing teacher asking where I was. Flicking back to my inbox, I reread my messages. Perhaps here is a good place to explain a little oddity about my phone. If I send a message and leave the messaging screen open, any new messages flash up with just the words. I have to return to the inbox to see who the message is from. I’d seen the words, blurrily, and assumed they were from my singing teacher, given the time of morning. They were actually from a friend I’d sent a scheduled message to earlier that day. Suddenly, the comment about meeting in a park made sense.

Quite understandably, my singing teacher was disappointed that I’d gotten mixed up. But it wasn’t the only mix-up for my week. On Thursday, I drove home without the bag I’d placed next to my car to put on the backseat. I realised about 30 minutes later and drove back to my car space, but the goods were gone. I felt terrible because the bag contained a gift I hadn’t even opened.

I’d left the bag behind because I was physically and mentally exhausted. That Thursday was my son’s birthday and an excursion at work. I was already worn out from several weeks of excessive busyness of the sort I don’t enjoy. End-of-year celebrations, work awards nights, early Christmas shopping because we have to mail most of our gifts interstate, birthday preparations (ninety per cent of our family birthdays are from early October to early December), major administrative censuses, etc. After an early start to set out my son’s presents on the dining table so he could feel celebrated from the moment he got up and a full day of canoeing, swimming, and water sliding with students much younger and fitter than me, I was stuffed.

I did my best to keep my eyes open and look like I was paying attention at my son’s dinner at a local harbour and the present opening and cake eating afterwards. I felt sick from lactic acid build-up, exhausted from physical exertion and a number of very early mornings, disappointed that we had to miss out on the church’s annual volunteer thank you dinner because it conflicted with the birthday plans (my priority was my son) and sad that I’d left the bag containing what I was sure was a very thoughtful present behind. I crashed at 8 pm, cutting into the time I wanted to spend celebrating my son’s special day.

Anyone reading this is probably wondering why I let myself get so busy that I forget things, but, as I explained to my counsellor two weeks ago, sometimes there isn’t anything you can cancel. She had asked how I was going to cope with the busyness of Christmas. My response was that Christmas is a doddle. It’s getting to the Christmas holidays that is manic because of late birthdays, schedules that can’t be adjusted, and everyone shoving end-of-year events into the same few weeks. I can’t not go to work. I can’t change the dates of my family’s birthdays. I couldn’t predict that one of my days off would get taken up with first aid training for work, requiring me to reschedule plans I’d already made. It’s not my son’s fault his car engine blew up, forcing me to find time to go car shopping with him and help deal with the endless paperwork and information needed to buy a new vehicle at the same time as everything else. After Tuesday next week, I’m free to concentrate and connect with people and have plenty of time to practice for singing on Christmas Day. Until then, all I can do is hang on for the ride and hope not to have too many disasters to recover from.

I’m really sad I missed my singing lesson. I am sorry I didn’t get to spend the evening with my son because I felt sick. I wish there was a way to put the brakes on the craziness that happens every year around this time because I hate feeling like I’m chasing my tail and being pulled in too many directions at the same time. But I cannot control many of the things that happen. I can only try to be organised, get enough sleep and keep praying for strength other than mine to get through. I don’t want to be Superwoman and wish I didn’t have to try to be. 

On the positive side, I did get my work bag and present back. Another team member left after me, saw the bag sitting in an empty carpark, looked inside and noticed the card addressed to me. She took the bag home and brought it back to work the next day. I was very grateful. As for the singing lesson, I will drop the money for my session to the teacher later today because it wasn’t her fault I got the texts mixed up. I want to say things will be smoother next year, but I’m really not sure they will. It’ll take a massive change in culture for some of the things that cause my busyness to end, and that’s not something I can influence or count on happening.

But wouldn’t it be nice if this time of year didn’t have to be all or nothing? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could all get to Christmas rested and ready rather than worn out and somewhat cranky? Wouldn’t it be great if I could enjoy the journey of birthdays, celebrations, and Christmas events rather than feeling like I’m hurtling down a set of rapids, clinging on desperately to not get thrown out of the boat? I truly hope that if you’ve had the time to read this entry, it means your life is a little calmer than mine. Yay, you – I’m jealous!

———————————

There is an addendum to this tale of tiredness. Between writing this blog entry and posting it, I went to my loctician, got petrol and visited the local shops. While paying for my goods at the pharmacy, I realised I’d left my purse in the car after purchasing petrol, rather than putting it back in my bag as I normally do. I apologised and went to retrieve it. Upon my return, I told the cashier about my morning and then told the story of leaving my bag beside the car on Thursday. The cashier laughed, as did the customer behind me. I joined in as I started to walk away, only to hear the cashier call to me. I turned back to see her holding up my car keys… which I’d just left on the counter. I think I might go to bed – right now!