The little things


It's all about the small things

Yesterday I was in work in a bad way. I was all out of sleep and running on empty. 
If you're wondering what that looks like the answer is not very pretty. I was tired and hungry
and the icing on the proverbial cake was that my muscles were in bits. I had done the mother
of all workouts Friday morning and due to my own stupidity (forgot to bring my protein shaker home and then headed back to Waterford 
without my protein) I had no protein shake and was forced to hobble around work in a painful manner making a face everytime I had to bend
over to pick something up. Which on Saturday is about every two minutes so a fun day all round.
By 5.30 I kind of looked like I was falling apart and not in a hot mess sort of way, just the mess , no hot.

My sister had taken pity on my body of doom ( my muscles were so sore it hurt to cough, true story) 
and had brought my protein into the shop but I was trying to workout how I was going to pull 
myself together and do a passable impression of a human being for the evening. Much as I would 
have liked my plans for the night to consist of pyjamas and bed , they did not. Making an executive decision
I opted for a power nap and got up an hour later to have a protein shake and the best scrambled eggs I have ever tasted.
Suddenly like some sort of magic trick I was looking less like someone clinging on the edge of life by the skin of her
nails and more like a normal person. A shower and some make up and I looked like a vaguely attractive normal human.
It was all good and suddenly my appreciation for the little things in life has gone up by a lot. Not an exact figure but I am not
really known for being precise. 

In the grand scheme of things it doesn't take much to make me happy 
and I think that makes me lucky in my own way. Especially for those who like to buy presents.
Not that I am suggesting anyone buy me scrambled eggs or a nap as a present, you might
get to see my unimpressed face if you did. 


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The darker side of romance

Help, I think I'm autistic

Sometimes I open my mouth and my mother comes out ..