Despite having been awake and active for six hours, I really feel like my day is just beginning and I’m struggling with it. Some dishes are done, but benches remain un-wiped and piles of clean clothes wait for me to put them away. The floors desperately need sweeping (thanks to Elspeth and that crumbly carrot cake), but all I can think is blergh.
I guess it’s the combination of amusing a toddler, playing host to a new life, and having a cold; I may not consciously notice it a lot of the time, but it’s all very draining.
Then there is the now-constant apprehension: I expect another faint spell if I exert myself too much, making me reluctant to try too much and making me stop and sit down if I feel the slightest bit dizzy or out of breath. Of course, that is probably a sensible and necessary precaution, but I still feel a little paranoid and guilty about it, as it stops me doing my share, or my job, around the house.
In short, I need to acknowledge that the day is half over, and act like it! I must motivate myself to get the broom out and sweep the living room at least! I must… make another cup of tea and savour that before doing anything else. Right?