Tiredness is…
Emptying a can of sweetcorn into a sieve in the
sink, before realising the sieve is upside down.
Walking down the ridiculously steep hill you live
on, feeling quietly proud of yourself for getting the baby in the sling and all
her bits and bobs in a bag, then remembering you’ve forgotten to put your own
coat or jumper on.
Locking yourself out of the house with the baby
inside (not quite as bad as it sounds – see previous post).
Forgetting to invite one of your best friends to
your birthday.
Making it to the Post Office 0.5 miles from your
house and feeling like Captain Oates.
Being so bad tempered that you tell the cat to fuck
off.
Also, envying the cat for sleeping so much.
Having utterly nonsensical arguments that go
something like this:
You: I’m so sad I can’t leave the house tomorrow to meet X because the baby has a cold.
Them: Not to worry, you can always rearrange.
You: WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS TELLING ME OFF?
You: I’m so sad I can’t leave the house tomorrow to meet X because the baby has a cold.
Them: Not to worry, you can always rearrange.
You: WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS TELLING ME OFF?
Consuming three bowls of cereal, three biscuits and
three cups of tea for breakfast, adding sugar to all but the biscuits. Food is
fuel.
Realising you actively hate inanimate objects,
especially the car seat.
Pioneering new recipes, such as ‘fish finger Caesar
salad’
Crying at ‘Ant and Dec’s Saturday Night Takeaway’.
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