In the past couple of years, my ability to function while low on sleep has increased by leaps and bounds. It used to be that if I didn’t get a solid eight hours at night, with a nap or two thrown in on the weekend, I was a mess.
These days, as long as I have a three or four hour unbroken stretch of sleep (and a boatload of coffee), I can get through the day. But internet? I am tired. In fact, I’m about at my limit. Here’s a few ways I can tell:
I am constantly sick. Sure, some of that has to do with the fact that I have a toddler in daycare. A toddler in daycare who delights in wiping her snotty nose on me, sticking her germ infested hands in my mouth and sneezing directly in my face. But if the sleep meter was full, I’d probably be immune to some of it. As it is, I can’t honestly remember the last time I was healthy. This week, I ended up at the doctor with a bad cold on top of a sinus infection. That just ain’t right, people.
I am eating a whole lot of carbs. I’ve read that there is a scientific connection between lack of sleep and obesity. I am living proof that that is true. I’ve put on almost five pounds in a month, people. You know why? When I’m tired, I don’t want a fucking salad. I want bread. And pasta. And cookies. And more bread. And oh, did I mention bread?
I have a short fuse. This morning, I yelled at my dog for wanting to go outside too much, my husband for failing to take out the garbage and my daughter for trying to kill herself (she was biting an electrical cord that was plugged in). Granted, that last one was deserved, but I yelled so sharply she burst into tears. I know better than that.
I let the house get even messier than usual. When I’m running on empty, I really don’t care if the dishes are piling up in the sink, or if the laundry piles are so mixed up I don’t know which ones are clean and which ones are dirty anymore. That’s why God invented takeout. And Kohls (cheap clothes, anyone?).
I lose my gym shoes. I’m pretty sure they’re still in the closet somewhere, but I might have given them away to Goodwill in a fit of exhaustion-induced rage. When I’m this tired? There is no way in hell I’m moving any faster than I have to while chasing Tori around. My butt can stay saggy, damn it.
So yeah. I need some sleep. Desperately. Fortunately, I have some time off coming up. Whether it will be enough to restore my sanity remains to be seen, but I am choosing to be hopeful.
Now it’s your turn, dear readers. Tell me how you know it’s time to take a break.