Burn out

I am not going to write much.

I am going to go to bed.

I got up this morning and I did not go for a run. I was so tired that I sat on the bed and burst into tears.

Number Two Daughter took the dogs out. Once I had got Mark ready for work I went back to bed.

I was tired because I had worked late and got up early. This has been a problem for the last few weeks, and I have just about had enough of it. Mark says that I have Burnt Out.

This is quite encouraging to hear. Being Burnt Out is a very modern problem, unlike tonsillitis, which has completely gone out of fashion. I am sure that he is right, and that I am a casualty of our stressful age. Obviously being Burnt Out is more serious than just being tired and fed up of working. I need to take it very seriously.

I could not sleep for very long, because I had got to take Number Two Daughter and Mrs. Number Two Daughter (Common Law) into Kendal, and I had to go to Asda.

Asda was dreadful.

It cost a fortune.

If you look at the picture at the top you will be able to see why.

I had just about unpacked all of the shopping when the lodger, Number Three Daughter, rang to tell me that she and her Irish friend were coming to visit. This was handy, because I explained what I had forgotten to buy in Asda, and she called in at Booths to remedy the deficiency on her way round.

It was lovely to see them.

I did not go to work either. I cooked things and tidied up and was generally busy until Mark came home, at which point we drank some wine and got ready for bed.

I think I might be too burned out to write any more. It is almost eleven o’ clock, and my head is hurting. I will write more when I have had some sleep.

I am sorry.