I rarely get to bed before 1 a.m., and I’m rarely able to sleep past 6:45. I’d be in a hospital bed or mental ward were it not for the drugstore in my office drawer. Vitamin C, B12 and D3 do wonders for keeping a sleep-deprived, aging martial artist chugging along – that and a boatload of morning caffeine.
As I groggily stumbled from bedroom to bathroom and back this morning, I ran a quick analysis of time management the previous evening. After pick-up from the commuter train and a congratulatory chat with my daughter for her most successful academic year yet, we got home to my son and a school friend leaving the house. I spent a few minutes talking with them before grabbing a yogurt and heading upstairs to change into kung fu clothes. Once fed and changed, I grabbed kung fu stuff and hit the car with Merle and Aaron.
We took Sanshou class, got notes from Siheng Mark afterwards on what we did right and wrong, and stretched out our tight muscles for a while. I practiced picking up the pace on The Walk from White Eyebrow before finally heading out the door for the ride home. After a stop for gas, I got home around 9:15.
I took a medium-length shower, tended to my knees with creams and ice, made and ate some food, then made and ate some more. The clock read 10:45. I checked baseball scores, emails and blogs while watching a cooking show, and then discussed the monthly calendar with Merle and what we were doing with the kids to celebrate their great school year before Aaron leaves for a month-long summer program. Somewhere in there, I also balanced the checkbook. At that point, the big hand was almost on the twelve.
I returned eyes to the television while blow drying hair I’d kept wrapped up since the shower and waited for the laundry to come out the dryer, so I could pack my kung fu clothes in my work bag for today. Tuesdays and Thursdays we have to go straight from commuter train to guan for the early class; so the clothes must come with me to work. (I guess I could have just worn the back-up high water pants and the shirt with the hole in the armpit, but not if I can help it.)
I went down to the kitchen for something, wound up in the downstairs bathroom (which is largely the one Aaron and I use most) and was painfully aware that my absence the previous week was particularly obvious in that room. So I cleaned tub and sink, brushed my teeth and went upstairs to bed. Merle was still up sorting clothes, and I was just floating into pre-consciousness when she turned out the last light. It was 1:05.
I could probably shorten the time between meal and bed, regardless of whatever else I have to do, if I didn’t turn on the television. But a good game or a good laugh goes a long way in a day that could otherwise be a grind… or in the case of Sanshou night, a beat down.
So what’s a woman to do? I guess just keep popping the B12 and vitamin C until the next non-working Sunday morning sleep-in. Things could certainly be worse. Life could actually be boring.