On Monday night, my plan was to get up at 6:00 a.m. on Tuesday so I could get to work early and leave early for band practice. I had my husband set an alarm for me, but since I don't usually use an alarm clock, my poorly-calibrated internal alarm clock managed to pick up on only the "early" part of my plan. Thus, I woke up at 5:00 a.m.
I had a wonderfully productive morning: I fed the cats, did two loads of laundry, tidied the kitchen, showered, made a protein shake, read some of my favorite blogs, and still made it to work just after 8:00 a.m.
It didn't take long before trouble started. A project I was working on got complicated and the resolution dragged on and on, causing me to curse randomly, hit my desk, duck out for an iced mocha, and severely get on the nerves of at least two of my co-workers who were trying to help. (Sorry, guys! I'm bringing donuts as a peace offering this morning.)
The upshot was that I didn't leave early at all. I finally left at my regular time, mouthing silent apologies to the person who was still on hold trying to work out the last problem with my project. Meanwhile, my husband was home, dancing with impatience because we needed to leave for practice. Sigh.
The day's events started to crash down on me around the time we got to band practice. I was absolutely exhausted and it really showed in my voice. I made my way thinly and flatly through a couple of songs, then let the guys practice on their own for a while. Eventually I got my second wind and sang several songs in good order with decent strength, tone and pitch. Fortunately, everyone was incredibly patient with me.
We didn't get home until almost 11:00 p.m., and although I was bone-tired, I couldn't wind down right away. I finally fell asleep on the couch while my husband watched TV, and then crawled into bed around midnight.
Today I feel as though I'm coming off a hard night of partying, which seems especially unfair in that I didn't have a single drink yesterday (no matter how appealing the idea sounded). This is usually the physical state in which viruses stop by, take a poke at my immune system, and say, "I think I can get in." Let's hope that doesn't come to pass.
Today I slept until 7:30 a.m. and I'm going to do my best to take things easy (except that I have a ton of work to do). I've learned my lesson: I'm definitely an eight-hours-of-sleep gal. I'll try not to forget it again.