hatman: HatMan, my alter ego and face on the 'net (Default)
([personal profile] hatman Oct. 31st, 2014 10:45 am)
Mom: *series of questions about nothing that's actually important*
Me: I'm really not up to handling any of that right now.
Mom: Well, what about this other thing...?
Me: *groan, facepalm, shake head, otherwise indicate I'm really really not feeling well*

Half an hour later:

Mom: I've been trying not to bother you with this, but I just can't figure it out. Can you fix the clock on my iPad? It's been stuck in the wrong time zone for days.
Me: *drop everything I'm doing, grumble, poke, apply software update*

5 minutes later:

Mom: What are your plans for the day?
Me: Couch.
Mom: What about fun? Don't you want to do anything? How about we make a banana bread? Or...

I really don't get it. I'm bleary as hell. My brain keeps trying to crash. (No, I don't know why. I had 11 hours of sleep yesterday and almost my usual 9 last night. I've just been feeling exhausted for at least the last week. Today is, so far, significantly worse. These things happen.) Mom has dealt with (and watched me trying to deal with and accompanied me to dozens of specialists trying to help me deal with) my sleeping disorders and the problems they cause for decades. How in the name of His Noodliness does she not get the message? It's not hard. "I'm too tired to deal with anything, including normal conversation. Go away."

A year or so ago, I almost had her trained to at least ask if I'm up to conversation before monologing at me with an overwhelming flood of words, but then she went to go visit her uncle on the other side of the country and all the progress I'd made vanished. I'm at a loss here.

Screw it. I'm hitting the couch.
.

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